


True Love's Bite

by magisterpavus



Series: Shance Faery AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Body Worship, Bondage, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Castles, Courtship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Fae & Fairies, Falling In Love, Family Reunions, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic-Users, Major Character Injury, Marking, Mind Control, Pining Lance (Voltron), Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Prosthesis, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Public Sex, Riding, Royalty, Scars, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 22:44:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12397776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: “I can’t allow this to continue for a week,” Lance whined. “Shiro will kill me when the bite wears off!”“I would never,” Shiro mumbled, flopping his head onto Lance’s lap and playing with the tassels on his tunic. “You’re too pretty to die.”Lance shot Keith and Hunk a helpless look. They were laughing at him. “Look, Lance, just enjoy Super Snuggly Shiro while you can, alright?” Hunk said.Shiro purred and rolled onto his back, smirking up at Lance, head still in his lap. “Yes, pleaseenjoy me,Lance.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the love bite shance au I promised!! next two parts should be up within a few weeks, hope y'all enjoy it so far~
> 
> support me on tumblr [@saltyshiro](http://saltyshiro.tumblr.com/)

“This…is all yours?”

They stood on the embankment on the far end of the drawbridge upon the north shore of the Arusian River, staring up at the blue-gray spires of Avalon Castle and the turquoise flags snapping in the wind, each emblazoned with the silver septagram heraldry of Lance’s family. He was the head of that family now, and thus, this castle was his to rule and reside in.

“Yes,” Lance told Shiro quietly. The human could not seem to stop staring at the castle, which must have seemed very fine and perhaps even intimidating to him. Shiro came from common roots; that much Lance knew – he was not particularly open about his past, but his obvious awe at the Fae Palace and his shock when he had learned of Lance’s nobility told Lance enough. He had vowed to do his very best to make Shiro feel at home here, with him, but he was beginning to have doubts – now, standing here, this place didn’t feel like the childhood home Lance had remembered. It had been…a very long time.

Shiro glanced at him. “Are you alright?” he asked, his brow creasing. Lance doubted he would ever get used to Shiro’s quiet, painfully genuine concern for him. “You look nervous.”

“I am,” Lance admitted. “I may have been born here, but it has been centuries since I stayed here for any extended period of time…and I have never stayed here without my mother.”

“Didn’t you say your sisters would be present for your arrival?” Shiro asked, pointedly avoiding the unintentional reminder that Lance was one thousand years old. 

Lance nodded. “Yes…I expected them to come out to greet me, but it has been so long, perhaps it was foolish to think that –”

“ _LANCE!_ ”

Shiro started violently as the castle doors flew wide and Lance’s two younger sisters came running out. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw them – Plaxum reached him first, practically tackling him with a tight hug, while Florona, always dignified and mature, strode up to him and clasped his shoulder formally, her dark eyes betraying her affection. 

“You’re all grown up now, huh?” Lance laughed as Plaxum squeezed him tighter, looking up at him with bright blue eyes a shade paler than his own and a wide, fanged grin. “I like the braids.”

Plaxum stepped back and ducked her head, playing shyly with her thick brown hair, which had been unmanageably unruly as a child and was now wrestled into two thick braids tucked behind her ears. “Thanks,” she giggled. “Flora helped me.”

Lance looked to Florona, who smiled, tossing her own long, long magenta hair over one shoulder. “We missed you, Lancerion. It has been far too long…the War separated too many families.” Her gaze shifted sharply to Shiro, who stood awkwardly off to the side. “So it’s true,” Florona said. “You’ve taken in a human soldier.”

Plaxum’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my,” she said. “It’s…so large. And frightening!”

Shiro winced. Lance frowned at her. “That’s very rude, Plaxum,” he said. “Shiro is a good man. He saved Pidge’s life, you know.”

Florona folded her arms. “Your dryad friend, yes, I heard. But he also marched into battle, fully willing to turn Allura’s coronation into a massacre. Did he not?”

“The Galran army committed many atrocities against the fae,” Shiro said. “I do not deny that, but I have apologized for my part in it, and was pardoned by Queen Allura.”

Florona’s eyes narrowed. “Do not think that means she, or any of us, truly forgive you. Men do not change, and I do not trust you for one second with my brother –”

“Florona, that is enough,” Lance cut in. “Shiro has suffered more than his fair share at the hands of our people, do not forget that. Both sides were deeply hurt, we are all trying to make our peace now. There will be no antagonizing Shiro, he is an honored guest here, is that understood?”

Florona blinked, taken aback by his steely tone. Plaxum looked startled, too. “Yes, brother,” she said after a pause, reluctant. She sighed. “While I can promise to be civil, I doubt the rest of the court will comply. Your human would be much more comfortable amidst his own people.”

“He is not my human,” Lance retorted. “Never refer to him as such.” Shiro looked at him in surprise.

Florona’s frown deepened, and she was about to reply when a third figure strode across the drawbridge, and Lance tensed. “Aunt Luxia has been looking after the castle while we awaited your arrival,” Florona murmured.

“Certainly not what Mother would have wanted,” Lance said under his breath.

Florona shook her head almost imperceptibly. “She’s made herself right at home.” 

“Flora and Aunt Luxia have already gotten into three arguments since dawn,” Plaxum added conspiratorially. 

Aunt Luxia looked the same as she had when Lance was a child – tall, beautiful, and regal. She may have been his mother’s sister but they had very little in common, inside and out – her hair was long, pale gold and turquoise where Lady Arusia’s had been short, dark brown and sapphire; her eyes were sharp violet where Arusia’s had been soft blue; her frame was tall and full-figured where Arusia’s had been petite and svelte. But there was some semblance of recognition in the face, in the sharp nixie features and bright pink spots across her cheekbones. 

As a child, Lance had been terrified of Aunt Luxia. She had known this, he was certain, and had delighted in it. She had a penchant for making lesser beings grovel at her feet. Lance saw her cool gaze move to Shiro at once, though her disdain was invisible to any but the most careful observer – she was polite in her criticism and cruelty. 

“My darling little Lancerion,” she greeted, inclining her head just enough. “It has been some time. We’re all so glad you’ve finally graced us with your presence.”

Lance was not a child anymore. “I was bound to eventually. This is my castle now, after all.”

Her lips thinned. “Your mother and I never quite saw eye to eye on the matter of inheritance…as it is, I’m not certain she made the right decision.” Luxia looked pointedly at Shiro. “Humans have never been welcome here, Lancerion, you know this.”

Shiro shifted uneasily. He hadn’t known this. Of course he hadn’t – how could Lance tell him that the nixies once made games out of drowning human trespassers in the river while he and his sisters cheered from the battlements? It had been wrong, he knew that now. But back then…

“I also know that this is my castle, and I shall be the judge of who is and is not allowed within these walls,” Lance retorted. Luxia’s eyes widened at his sharp tone. “Or would you prefer to take up the issue with Queen Allura?”

Luxia’s eyes narrowed, her polite demeanor flickering. “I would prefer that you had not tarnished our family with this human filth,” she hissed, baring her sharp teeth at Shiro. “At least when you were sleeping with any faery who would have you it was with your own kind, but this…you have stooped low indeed, to let a creature like this not only into your bed, but into our home, Lancerion.”

Lance took a furious step forwards. “Aunt Luxia, you have no idea –”

“Oh, do I not?” she said, voice so cold it stopped him in his tracks. “So the nymph who told me of how this human soldier and his troop kidnapped, imprisoned, interrogated, tortured, and raped you was utterly and completely wrong, was she?”

“Luxia!” Florona snapped, covering Plaxum’s ears. His little sister’s eyes were wide and scared, and she shrank away from Shiro when he stepped forward hesitantly to lay a steadying hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

“Yes, she was quite wrong,” Lance snapped, though his voice was pitifully shaky. “I volunteered for that mission, Aunt Luxia, in order to help my people and end this war. But then, you would know nothing about such sacrifices, since you spent the entirety of the War hiding in your river and this castle like the coward you are!”

Luxia recoiled, and then sneered, drawing herself up to her full height and glaring down at him. “You have a lot of nerve to speak of cowardice, boy. You have shunned your birthright for how many months now?” Lance opened his mouth and she waved a hand. “Yes, yes, you were visiting with your cousin the Queen and tending to your precious human pet, I know. Flimsy excuses. I have been here, rebuilding what was lost when your mother and her subjects were murdered by humans, and now you come along, a spoiled child strolling in a year late with one of those humans, to snatch it all away from me.”

Lance stared at her. “Do you challenge my rule of his castle, Aunt Luxia?”

She looked at if she was considering it. Briefly. Then she composed herself, folding her hands and exhaling. “I would never dream of it, Lancerion. This castle belongs to you; however I implore you to do what is best for us and begin your rule on a strong note by sending this human away.”

“I will do no such thing,” Lance declared.

“He does not belong here, Lancerion. He belongs in his town, his home –”

“It was destroyed by the fae during the War.”

“The rest of the court will not welcome him,” Luxia warned. “And they will not welcome you with a human hanging off your arm…or worse, with you hanging off its arm.” Her lip curled and she looked at Shiro more closely. “Speaking of which, you couldn’t even find a whole specimen, Lancerion? You had to settle with a maimed one. Fitting, I suppose.”

Shiro’s hands curled into fists. Lance said, with barely-contained rage, “It’s no wonder you’ve found no lover of your own despite having centuries to do so, Aunt Luxia. You are just as incredibly disagreeable as ever. I will see you at the feast tonight, but I will make certain you are seated as far away from us as possible. So lovely to see you. Come along; Shiro, sisters. We have work to do, namely fixing the mess our auntie has surely made of our ancestral home.”

Aunt Luxia opened her mouth, then closed it, speechless.

“You look like a fish,” Lance told her curtly, and left.

*

When they were inside the keep, with Aunt Luxia stunned on the bridge, Florona turned to Lance with huge eyes and hissed, “You _have_ changed. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to her like that before, much less…well, you!”

“Thank you,” Lance said dryly. “I try.”

“No, no, Lance, that was amazing!” Plaxum insisted, tugging on his sleeve. “You really told her off, she’ll be feeling the sting of it for weeks!”

“It was quite impressive, but I expected nothing less,” Shiro murmured. Lance’s sisters looked at him with expressions of quizzical uncertainty. “Though…I am sorry to be the cause of all this…drama. I had no idea my being here would cause such a stir, Lance.” _You didn’t tell me, you prick._

Lance cleared his throat. “Er, well, yes…humans are not often guests at Avalon Castle.”

“They are never guests at Avalon Castle,” Florona corrected. “ _Never._ ”

“Until now,” Lance said briskly, starting up the grand staircase and ignoring the curious glances of the guards as they passed. “Is it just me, or is this place rather…empty?”

“It’s been emptier than usual,” Florona agreed, hurrying to keep up with him and Shiro, Plaxum close behind. “Many of mother’s subjects were…well, either killed or badly injured. Some relocated to other rivers. Aunt Luxia’s subjects from the Luxial River have been frequenting the castle more –”

Lance paused. “Not _all_ of them, surely.”

Florona sighed heavily. “Yes, if you’re referring to Nyma, she’s here.”

“You have got to be shitting me,” Lance growled. “That – that damned rusalka – and to think she’s staying here…ugh.”

“A rusalka?” Shiro exclaimed, alarmed. “Those are powerful Unseelie…what is one doing here?”

“Unseelie are not expressly forbidden from Avalon –” Florona started.

“But they are generally discouraged from this place, at least under my mother’s rule they were!” Lance finished, shaking his head in frustration. “What others has Luxia let slip through the cracks? A fachan? A couple anguana? Perhaps even a redcap, just to send a message that every cruel murderer is welcome here?!”

“No redcaps yet,” Plaxum said timidly. “I don’t want redcaps to come here, Lance. They scare me.”

“As they should, they’re wicked little sadists,” Shiro muttered. Plaxum blanched.

“And they will never be allowed within Avalon so long as I have anything to say about it, Plax,” Lance assured her, giving Shiro a look. 

Florona cleared her throat. “Will your subjects be arriving from the Lancerion River soon?”

Lance nodded, distracted, his eyes tracing over the familiar frescoes across the walls and ceilings of the castle. His mother was featured in many of them, swimming through the warm waters of her river, immortalized in paint. “Yes, in a week’s time. I don’t know how many of them will leave their homes to come here, honestly. I can’t even see myself staying here permanently.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “But…it’s your birthright.”

Lance shrugged. “I’ve never much cared for ruling, I told you, I like to live a quiet life and keep to myself.”

Florona rolled her eyes. “You mean, you like to shirk responsibility and frolic through the woods looking for trouble.”

“That does sound more like Lance,” Shiro said under his breath. Plaxum giggled and he smiled slightly at her, and Lance’s heart warmed when she smiled timidly back instead of flinching away. 

“Well,” Lance drawled, “either way, I can’t see myself ruling Avalon for eternity. You’d be much better at that sort of thing, Flora.”

Florona blinked. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

But she frowned and looked away. “Mother chose you for this role, as it should be. You’re the eldest, Lancerion, and the responsibility falls upon you. This is not something you can avoid any longer. You are Lord of Avalon now.”

Lance sighed. “So it seems,” he said, and turned away from the concern in Shiro’s eyes as they ascended the stairs together.

*

The feast that night was an uncomfortable affair, to say the least.

Lance tried to block most of it out of his memory. There were so many formalities, the infuriatingly precise etiquette of court grated on him and he remembered at once why he’d avoided this responsibility as long as he had. There were so many hands to shake, so many fae who bowed before him and bestowed useless, obsequious trinkets upon him – seriously, nobody needed a sapphire the size of a pumpkin, and there was no way Lance was going to actually wear half the gaudy jewelry he received. He liked to think he had some sense of taste.

And it was just as Florona had said – alongside the few remaining Arusian River subjects, guests from the Luxial River flooded the banquet hall, mostly unfamiliar and all vaguely threatening. They looked at Lance not like he was their lord, but like he was a stranger, an outsider, even a traitor. Only a few of them spoke to Shiro, and when they did it was unbelievably awkward, and Lance was angry on Shiro’s behalf for the condescending manner in which they treated him – as if Shiro was a child, and not a seasoned warrior who had in fact been forced to grow up far too fast. The ones who did not speak to Shiro just stared, and spoke to Lance about Shiro as if he was not there at all.

Lance had been dreading meeting Nyma, but eventually the time came, and she grinned at him with all her sharp teeth before presenting her gift. It was, he grudgingly admitted, beautiful – carved of pink quartz and gilded in gold, the septagram figurine fit neatly in his hand and glinted brightly in the golden lamplight. 

“Lovely,” Lance said, voice flat and eyes even more so as he looked up at her. “Feeling sentimental?”

“For you? Never,” Nyma laughed. “Feeling quite sorry for you, though.”

“Sorry? For me? Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

“Shouldn’t I? Tell me, Lance, were you curious about just how clumsy and beastly humans are when they fuck?” She smirked. “Because you could have just asked me, darling, and saved yourself the disappointment. Though it looks like you’re keeping the disappointment around…don’t tell me you’ve grown attached.”

“Jealous?” Lance asked archly. “You should be. You haven’t been fucking the right humans. Guess you only get the dregs, huh?”

Nyma’s expression didn’t change, but her clawed hands twitched. “Does your human know we were once lovers? Does he know how in love with me you were?”

Shiro kept his head high. “Lance has lived a long time; I am unsurprised he’s had other lovers.”

“Yes, he has lived a long time; I have lived even longer,” Nyma retorted. “And believe me, human, you cannot begin to compare to the others. And there were many, many, _many_ others.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Lance is what you might call used goods. Frequently used.” 

Lance glared, and hid the trembling of his hands under the table.

“I would not call him that,” Shiro said firmly. “And neither should you.”

Nyma regarded them coolly. “He has not changed,” she said after a beat. “He enjoys the feisty, pretty ones for as long as he likes, and then he moves on. You will be no different. Fae do not anchor themselves to one-armed mortal brutes, and they never should.”

“It was you who ended it,” Lance snapped. “Don’t act like you’re so innocent.”

“Because you moved on,” Nyma reminded him. “Was it innocent when I found you entwined with a cherry dryad that night?”

Shiro did look at him at that. Lance folded his arms. “I was younger then, and stupider. You killed her, don’t omit that detail.”

“I poisoned her tree,” Nyma countered. “It was an indirect death. Mostly your fault.”

“It was not – !”

Florona cleared her throat from beside him. The rest of the line was waiting.

Nyma bowed, her long blonde hair brushing the floor. “I will see you again soon, Lancerion,” she said.

Lance held the cold crystal so tightly it cut into his palms.

*

That night, when the horrible ordeal of the feast was over and all the trappings of ridiculous royalty were shed, Lance lay beside Shiro in the huge, strange bed that had once belonged to his parents, and their parents before them, and their parents before them, and said, “I didn’t mean for her to die, you know.”

Shiro blinked, rolling onto his side so they were face to face. “Who?”

“The…the cherry dryad. Her name was Mera. I didn’t mean for Nyma to kill her.” Lance swallowed. “And I want you to know I would never – I wouldn’t betray you the way I did to Nyma.”

Shiro regarded him silently for a few moments. Then he murmured, “Why did you do it?”

Lance glanced up at him nervously. “I…I don’t know. I was scared, I suppose.”

“Scared?”

“Of Nyma,” Lance admitted. “I knew what she could – what she can – do. I did love her, once, or I thought I did…but she terrified me. I knew she might hurt me if I tried to end things with her. So…so I took the coward’s way out, and…and someone died because of it. And I would never do such a thing again, now.”

Shiro’s brow lowered, and his face was very solemn. “Are you scared of me?” he asked quietly.

Lance stared at him. “What?”

“Because…if you’re scared of me, in any way, then please tell me, Lance, because I don’t want you to ever feel –”

“What?!” Lance repeated again, more panicky. “Of course I’m not scared of you!”

Shiro tilted his head, not mocking, just inquisitive. “Not at all?”

“Well, I – no, not at all,” Lance said, a bit startled by the realization himself. “I know what you’ve done; I know what you’re capable of…and I was scared of you when we first met, yes, but I think you were scared of me too.”

Shiro nodded, his eyes softening. “And now?”

“I trust you,” Lance whispered, reaching out and touching Shiro’s cheek with a long slender finger. “I’m not scared of you, Shiro.”

“Nyma was wrong,” Shiro said, taking Lance’s hand gently in his own, in the hand the fae had made him, the hand that no longer burned Lance’s skin but simply touched it with a soothing coolness. “She was wrong to scare you, she was wrong to drive you to sleep with Mera, and she was wrong to blame you for Mera’s death.”

“She is wrong about many things,” Lance sighed, “but in this…”

“No,” Shiro said, and shifted closer, drawing Lance into his arms, against his chest. Stunned by the sudden show of affection, Lance melted into it, pillowing his head against Shiro’s chest and letting his eyes fall shut, calmed as he always was by the human’s steady presence. “She is wrong,” Shiro whispered, his lips pressing to Lance’s forehead, “and you should stay away from her.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all these years?” Lance chuckled bitterly. Shiro didn’t laugh. “I’ll stay away,” Lance mumbled. “As best I can, I promise.”

“Good,” Shiro murmured. “Because I doubt the rest of your court would like it very much if I challenged her to a duel.”

“A duel?” Lance snorted and pulled away slightly to gaze up at him. “You silly man, don’t _duel_ anyone for me.”

“I would, though,” Shiro said, brushing a curl away from Lance’s brow. “I would, Lance.”

Lance’s throat was tight. “You are a fool,” he whispered. 

“I trust you, too,” Shiro said, soft and genuine. “Does that also make me a fool?”

“Humans who trust fae rarely have happy endings,” Lance said. “But I hope you are not a fool for trusting me, Shiro. I will do everything I can to…to give you a happy ending.”

“Hmm,” Shiro said. “Us.”

“What?”

“To give us a happy ending,” Shiro said. He looked suddenly uncertain. “Right?”

Lance tucked his head back against Shiro’s chest. “Right,” he said, and hoped he sounded more certain than he felt, which was not certain at all.

He must have, because Shiro smiled and tilted his head up gently, and Lance fell asleep with the faint warmth of a kiss on his lips.

*

The next several weeks were…stressful, to say the least. Lance had much to do, and often found himself working from dawn to dusk – he was usually too tired to do much more than flop down face first into bed, make a disgruntled sound when Shiro asked him if he was alright, and promptly pass out. 

He would wake up before Shiro, steal a long, painful moment to admire the peaceful lines of his face while he slept, brush a quick kiss across his cheek, and hurry to get ready for the meetings and affairs of the day. Running a castle, as it turned out, was a complicated and tiring business. No wonder Allura was so cross all the time. Lance wanted nothing more than to stay snuggled up against Shiro for the rest of the day, but instead he found himself at the head of a long, long table listening to various constituents voice their various concerns.

At least most of the constituents had been his mother’s. Unlike Luxia’s subjects, they treated him with some modicum of respect, even if they were a bit exasperated with his inexperience and childish snark at times. They were generally much older than Lance; one stubborn asrai was going on at least fifty thousand years and as such took it upon herself to interrupt as much as possible. They were all good-intentioned, though – unlike Luxia’s subjects, who seemed determined to undermine his authority at every turn. 

Luxia herself radiated cool, unwavering disapproval. Had it just been the two of them, Lance felt certain that she would have slapped him whenever he opened his mouth. As it was, her eyes cut into him from across the room while Florona remained a firm buffer between them.

Lance was regretting his choice to return to Avalon. It was good to see his family again, to talk quietly with Florona about all he had missed and to watch Plaxum play with the other young fae in the shallows, but it was less good to be constrained by the heavy weight of responsibility. For all the horror the War had brought to the world, there had been a certain sense of adventure and wildness to it. Lance had been free, free in his anger and his grief, free to do as he wished and blame it on revenge thinly disguised as justice. 

He had been free to run amok without consequence. And that running had led him to Shiro.

Poor Shiro. Lance felt awful for leaving him alone in this strange place when he had promised they were in this together from the start. Shiro’s time at the Fae Palace had made him a little more comfortable around fae; Allura and her ilk had welcomed him as an honored guest and his shell had begun to fall away. But here he must have been distinctly aware he was an outsider, and unwelcome by many, and Lance’s absence didn’t help. 

Lance waited eagerly for Keith, Hunk, or Pidge to send word from the Palace, for they’d promised to stay at Avalon for a time as soon as they were free of their many postwar duties. Their being here would surely make Shiro feel more at ease – Lance liked to think his friends had become Shiro’s friends, too. But he was beginning to lose hope that Allura would ever release them.

Lance didn’t quite know what Shiro did during the days. He’d asked once on a rare slow morning, when he’d been awake for long enough to see Shiro sitting up and reading beside him. 

“I didn’t know you liked to read,” Lance mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Shiro held the book with care, almost daintily, and looked at Lance over the edge of the page. “Yes, I do,” was all he said. 

“You visited the library?”

Shiro blinked. Nodded once. “I like it there. It’s quiet.”

“You like quiet places?” Lance started to sit up. He was too tired, and slumped back down. Shiro’s brow rose in faint amusement. “The east gardens are quiet. You could read there…”

“I like it here,” Shiro replied easily. “With you.”

“I must leave soon,” Lance sighed against the pillows.

“But not yet,” Shiro countered, and went back to his reading.

The book was called _Ancient Undine Courtship,_ but Shiro had covered it with his hands, and Lance was too sleepy to notice anyway.

*

One night he returned earlier than usual. Florona, in fact, had been the one to usher him away from the feast after only the first course, ignoring the looks from the rest of the table and saying something about ‘getting his beauty sleep.’ Lance was slightly offended. He might have bags under his eyes but he was still exceptionally beautiful, thank you very much. Still, he went.

He found Shiro in their bed, and stopped short as the door thudded shut behind him.

“Um?” Lance said, ever the pinnacle of eloquence. 

Shiro was naked. That was all he could process for a while. Then, when he finally managed to tear his gaze away from that, his shocked eyes trailed over the water lilies strung up upon the headboard, purple and white, and then upon the candles on either side of the bed, six in total – the wax must have been scented, for the room was filled with the heady scent of…lavender, and perhaps roses. 

“Hello,” Shiro said, as if everything was normal.

“What…in the world…?” Lance gestured helplessly to the entirety of the room, and then to Naked Shiro. “Did you do all this?”

“Did I undress myself?” Shiro teased. “I should hope so.” Shiro was _teasing._ Lance definitely needed more sleep, he felt faint.

“I visited the east gardens,” Shiro added. “That’s where I got the water lilies. Do you like it?”

“I…I suppose?” Lance stammered. “It’s very…pretty.”

“Good,” Shiro said, his playful tone fading. “Pretty is…good.” He bit his lip.

Shiro was nervous. _Shiro_ was _nervous_?

“Why are you nervous?” Lance blurted.

“I’m not,” Shiro retorted, and shifted on the bed. “I just…we haven’t had time together for a while, have we?”

“I’m sorry,” Lance started, abashed, but Shiro shook his head. 

“It isn’t your fault, you’re busy. I knew you would be. I just…”

_I missed you,_ Lance thought desperately, but didn’t say, because suddenly he felt clumsy and awkward and confused and the realization of how long it had been since he and Shiro had been alone together for any extended period sank in like a stone in a pool, rippling outwards through his gut with slow warmth.

“I just wanted you to rest,” Shiro finished. “You’re exhausted, don’t deny it.”

“This doesn’t look like resting,” Lance pointed out.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Shiro said. “Come here.”

Slowly, Lance did. He never could resist Shiro, even if Shiro was everything he should never have wanted: human, soldier, _faery-killer._ Lance shivered, and then again when Shiro reached out and drew upon his hand, tugging him down onto the bed. Shiro sometimes rushed to remove garments, had even ripped some of Lance’s old finery in the process, but right now he was slow, careful, taking his time with every button and lace, and Lance held his breath until he was bare beside the human.

“I always forget,” Shiro murmured, his left palm warm and rough over the smooth curve of Lance’s hip. 

“Hm?” Lance said, briefly forgetting words when Shiro swung a strong leg over his body and urged him down onto his back, straddling his waist and looking down at Lance’s stunned face. 

“I always forget how lovely you are,” Shiro said, quiet and sincere. Lance’s heart pattered violently within his chest. 

“Oh,” he said. “Shiro –”

“Shhh,” Shiro murmured. “I’ll take care of you.”

Lance stared at him, uncomprehending, until Shiro’s cool metallic hand covered his rousing cock and guided it between his parted thighs. Lance could only lay there, disbelieving and so hard he was dizzy, as Shiro sank down on his cock and began to ride; slow, sweet fucking made immeasurably worse by Shiro’s soft gaze upon him.

Had Shiro ever looked at him like that before? Lance didn’t know. He didn’t know anything except the way Shiro’s hips flexed when Lance’s hands covered them hesitantly and the low pleased moans that left Shiro’s pink parted lips; didn’t feel anything beyond the steady, hot friction of Shiro’s body so tight around his cock and the slow wet drag of Shiro’s thick, leaking cock across his stomach.

His eyelids were heavy but he came before he fell asleep, in a burst of sharp sweet warmth, and then Shiro followed, sighing and bowing over Lance’s limp body. 

_What was that?_ Lance pleaded in his head as he watched Shiro rise from the bed slowly, returning to clean them both off with a damp cloth. _What did that mean?_ It felt like it meant something. It had to have meant something.

“Feel better?” Shiro asked when he’d settled back down alongside Lance. 

Lance was still uncertain as to which plane of existence he was currently on. Was that what all this had been about? Making him feel better? Why, then, go to the trouble of the lilies and the lights? Lance didn’t know. 

“Yes,” he whispered, searching Shiro’s gray eyes for the answer. But they were guarded, as always, and revealed nothing. He had no right to feel disappointed, but he did. Six months this human had been in his life. Six measly months, and yet if it was truly so short, so ephemeral, then why did Lance feel so unbalanced because of it? Because of _him_.

“Go to sleep, Lance,” Shiro said, stroking his hair. “You have a castle to rule, you know.”

“Shiro,” Lance whispered, sleep already creeping into the corners of his vision, filling his head with fuzziness. “What was all that for?”

“You, of course,” Shiro said. 

“But why?”

Shiro sighed, and looked away. “Sleep, Lance.”

“Why won’t you tell me…?”

“Because I missed you,” Shiro said, and Lance’s chest bloomed with hope.

“I missed you, too,” Lance told him, half-slurred, barely audible. Shiro’s expression flickered. Lance didn’t know if it was good or bad, or neither.

“Sleep,” Shiro reminded him, and Lance did.

*

The next day, by some unforeseen miracle, Lance had a free afternoon.

He went to find Shiro at once. Maybe he could repay the favor from last night…if that could even be called a favor. It seemed bigger than that. Like more of a gift, maybe. They didn’t give each other gifts, but maybe they should start. Yes, he would get Shiro a gift. Something useful, not like a pumpkin-sized sapphire – maybe a book! 

Pidge had friends with all sorts of rare books, dryads were into that sort of stuff – surely Shiro would appreciate at least one of the manuscripts in their treasure troves. Lance headed off towards the royal quarters with a spring in his step just thinking about it. 

But when he reached the main hall, the one that connected to the royal library, the back of his neck prickled uneasily – there was a strange shadow on the wall, one he did not recognize. It moved – then there were other shadows, equally unfamiliar.

Lance heard sounds of a scuffle, a muffled grunt, and frantic cursing, and fearing the worst he ran around the corner, eyes widening at the scene before him.  
Shiro was on the ground, pinned up against the wall by three nixies and Nyma, who was straddling his body, wrenching his head back as Shiro squeezed his eyes shut and thrashed under her. And then, to Lance’s horror, Nyma sank her fangs into Shiro’s neck. 

“Shiro!” Lance cried, dashing into the room, and Shiro’s eyes snapped open. Lance knew what had happened the moment the human’s dazed gaze locked onto him – Nyma had used her venom on him.

Fury and panic warred within Lance as he realized what the rusalka’s goal had been – if Lance hadn’t showed up at just the right time, Shiro would have looked at Nyma or one of the nixies, and become obsessed with them instead. Rusalka venom was potent, used as the base for many a twisted love potion, as it made the victim hopelessly infatuated with the first person they looked at upon being poisoned. 

The nixies scrambled away from Shiro, eyes wide and faces guilty, and Nyma stood, wiping blood from her mouth and turning to level Lance with a cool stare. “How dare you,” Lance hissed, his hands curling into fists. “He is a guest here, he is _my_ guest here, and this is your idea of hospitality?! I never should have let you step foot in these halls!”

“But you did,” Nyma said blithely, batting her eyelashes. “And I did what I had to do to show you how unfit this human is to be among us, to share your bed. Humans are flighty, foolish, disloyal creatures; easily manipulated and led astray – even moreso than you, believe it or not. All it would take is my bite, and he would be entirely taken by another, Lance.”

“That proves nothing but your own deceitful nature,” Lance retorted, ears pinning back. “Get out of my sight. You are no longer welcome here, and do not think this is the last of it.” He pointed to the cowering nixies. “You, report to Lady Florona immediately and tell her what you did here. Go!” The nixies scurried off hastily.

Nyma’s lip curled. “You’ll thank me later,” she said. “He may have imprinted on you instead, but we’ll see how long you can stand his pathetic clinginess before you throw him out a window. Farewell.” She strode out, her head held high, a smear of Shiro’s blood at the corner of her smirking lips.

As if on cue, Shiro stumbled to his feet, swaying slightly and clutching at his head with a low groan. “Shiro?” Lance said cautiously, starting forward. “Are you alright?”

Lance’s heart sank when Shiro’s face split into a huge, excited grin. “Lance! Of course I’m alright, you’re here!” He giggled and before Lance even had a chance to process _that_ , Shiro scooped him up into his arms. Lance squawked and Shiro pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, still beaming. It was…slightly unsettling. Shiro hardly ever smiled like that. But…Lance wished he would, it was a good look on him. 

“Oh, dear,” Lance sighed. “Shiro…oh, Shiro. I’m terribly sorry.”

“For what, everything is fine!” Shiro exclaimed, eyes wide and bright and face flushed. “Do you need something? I can help! Whatever it is, just say the word, and –”

“Shiro!”

Shiro stopped talking, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and actually _pouting._ “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Would…would you like me to put you down?”

“Yes, that would be much appreciated,” Lance huffed, and Shiro reluctantly set him down, though he still insisted on holding Lance’s hand. “Right, then…we should get that bite mark cleaned, and then I can contact Keith about getting an antidote for this, and you’ll be all back to normal. How does that sound?”

“Your voice is the loveliest sound my ears have ever had the pleasure of hearing,” Shiro sighed dreamily.

Lance put his head in his hands. 

*

“What do you _mean_ the antidote takes a week to brew?!” Lance yelled into his scrying pool. “No, that can’t be right, Keith, ask him again!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “The answer isn’t going to change, Lance, bloodwort doesn’t bloom until the full moon and the full moon is in a week.”

“Well – can’t Hunk, I don’t know, substitute bloodwort blossoms for something else?”

Hunk’s face moved into the frame, and he shook his head. “They’re an important ingredient, and we don’t know what could happen to Shiro if we mess with the original recipe. Best to just wait.”

“I can’t allow this to continue for a week,” Lance whined. “Shiro will kill me when the bite wears off!”

“I would never,” Shiro mumbled, flopping his head onto Lance’s lap and playing with the tassels on his tunic. “You’re too pretty to die.”

Lance shot Keith and Hunk a helpless look. They were laughing at him. “Look, Lance, just enjoy Super Snuggly Shiro while you can, alright?” Hunk said.

Shiro purred and rolled onto his back, smirking up at Lance, head still in his lap. “Yes, please _enjoy me,_ Lance.”

Lance made a strangled sound and Hunk flushed before hastily ducking out of frame. “Wow,” Keith said, a little faint, “are you sure that’s Shiro, or did Nyma actually replace him with a succubus?”

“He just keeps saying _things_ like that, do you see what I mean now? I need that antidote _immediately_!” Lance exclaimed. 

“Shhh,” Shiro mumbled, petting his thigh and squishing his face against Lance’s stomach. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. I love you sooo much…”

“And he keeps saying that,” Lance gritted out. 

“What, ‘I love you’?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you surprised? Rusalka bites make people fall madly in love.”

“But it’s not real love,” Lance said.

“My love for you is as real as your breathtaking beauty,” Shiro said earnestly. Lance sighed, and swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“Well…” Keith bit his lip, starting to see where Lance was coming from. “I mean, at least you were together to begin with, so you know you’re both attracted to each other…and maybe he does actually love you, Lance, you never know. It’s been six months since you met him, that’s certainly enough time for a human to fall in love. I think. Maybe?” He turned to Hunk. “How do human emotions work?”

“He isn’t in love with me,” Lance said, frowning. “At least, we never…said it to each other, before.”

“I’ll say it to you every hour if you want me to,” Shiro offered, smiling.

“Thanks but no thanks,” Lance said, patting his head. Shiro’s eyes closed in contentment and he leaned into the touch. 

“We’ll try to keep looking for a solution, Lance, but it’ll probably still be at least a week,” Keith said. “And, listen, just do your best to handle the situation and I’m sure Shiro will understand afterwards. He may not be in love with you, but he still cares about you, anyone with eyes can see that.”

“Your eyes are my favorite color in the whole world,” Shiro said, even though his eyes were still shut, and Lance wondered if he was imagining them, if Shiro had _memorized the color of his eyes_ , ugh, this was too much. 

Keith made a face. “Have fun. Not too much fun, though.”

“Keith, sex jokes are _my_ thing,” Lance protested.

“Yeah, Keith,” Shiro said. “Sex jokes are Lance’s thing!”

Keith gave Lance a despairing look. “Don’t call me again unless it’s a legitimate emergency,” he grumbled, and disconnected, the pool of water going dark and empty once more.

“I’m glad they’re gone,” Shiro declared, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist, chin pressing into his stomach. “Now I can have you all to myself!”

Lance looked down at him, conflicted. “Shiro,” he said slowly, “you’re not really in your right mind. I don’t think –”

Shiro pouted. “Of course I am! I know what I want, I want you, I don’t want anything but you!”

“And therein lies the problem,” Lance sighed. “Listen to me, Shiro. Can you do that?”

Shiro sat up, let go of Lance’s waist, looked at him with wide, solemn eyes, and nodded. “I’m listening.”

“When we first met…you could have taken advantage of me, but you didn’t. Remember that?”

Shiro looked like it pained him to think about that time, but nodded. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I would never hurt you, Lance.”

“Yes, I know that, and I’m saying I would never hurt you either,” Lance told him firmly. “Which means I would never take advantage of you. And I think, if we…did anything right now, it might be considered me taking advantage of you.”

Shiro’s face fell. He looked down at the bed. “Oh,” he said. 

Lance sighed. “You’re upset.”

Shiro chewed his lip. “I want you,” he murmured. “I wanted you before Nyma bit me, too. That hasn’t changed.”

“You know that she bit you?” Lance said in surprise. “You know you’re under the influence of rusalka venom?”

“I know that I love you,” Shiro said hopefully, looking up. Lance’s shoulders slumped and Shiro realized that had been the wrong answer. “I – I know that she bit me, but I would want you even if she hadn’t!” Shiro added hastily. “We kissed this morning, we did more than kiss last night, do you not want to do any of that with me anymore?”

Lance hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want you –”

“You want me, I want you; that’s all we need!” Shiro shuffled forward, until their noses were nearly touching. 

But Lance put his hands on Shiro’s shoulders and pushed him away gently. “Shiro. No.”

The word made Shiro lower his head, defeated and a little ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he said dully. “I just thought…”

“Hey,” Lance murmured, cupping his face and giving him a small, sad smile. “I’m not mad at you. None of this is your fault, and…and you’ll thank me later, alright?” Shiro continued to look miserable and hopelessly confused, so Lance took pity and leaned in to kiss him, chaste but long. Shiro clung to him and made a small, relieved sound against his lips, and he was smiling when Lance finally pulled away.

“You’re a wonderful kisser,” Shiro said, his face flushed. “I don’t ever want to kiss anyone else but you.”

Lance’s heart lurched dangerously. “…Thanks,” he said, clearing his throat. “You’re quite good at kissing, yourself.”

“Thank you!” Shiro beamed. “I haven’t had as much practice as you, though!”

Somehow, Lance had failed to consider how loose Shiro’s tongue would be under the rusalka venom’s influence. It occurred to him that he knew barely anything about Shiro; the man was so tight-lipped about himself normally, but now…it seemed like the perfect opportunity to learn more about him. And perhaps it would distract him from…other things.

“Really?” Lance asked. “What kind of practice have you had?”

Shiro looked a little uncertain, at least until Lance suggested they snuggle and chat on the bed. He was all over that idea, and all over Lance, and they ended up lying against the many, many pillows with Shiro’s arms draped securely around Lance, who sat between his legs with his back to Shiro’s chest. Shiro was so warm and strong yet soft, and Lance allowed himself to revel in it for a few moments while Shiro sighed happily and nuzzled into Lance’s hair. 

Lance was pretty sure he was sniffing it. Oh, well. There were weirder things.

“Ahem, Shiro, you still haven’t answered the question,” Lance reminded him.

Shiro started, and lifted his head guiltily. “Oh. Er…well, there was a girl in my village when I was a youth –”

“As if you aren’t youthful anymore,” Lance said, amused.

“I was much younger!” Shiro said. “Fifteen, when she and I began to see each other. She was pretty, but not as pretty as you.”

Lance snorted. “I’m sure she’d be very pleased to hear you say that, Shiro.”

“Oh, no, she’s dead now,” Shiro said matter-of-factly. Lance stiffened. “The fae killed her and strung up her body in the tree in front of her home!”

Lance swallowed. “I…I’m very sorry that happened to her,” he offered, not knowing what to say, if there was anything he could say, to right that horrible wrong. Shiro shrugged. “What…what was her name?”

“Fala,” Shiro said after a moment of thought. “But she doesn’t matter anymore, now that I have you!”

“Oh, Shiro, don’t say such awful things,” Lance whispered. “I know you don’t mean that, but still.” He shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Hmmm,” Shiro said. “Would you like to know how I lost my arm?”

“What – why would I want to know such an awful thing?”

Shiro curled in on himself. “Oh,” he said. “It is…an awful thing?”

Lance turned around to face him. Shiro was holding his metal arm in his left hand and looking despondently down at it. Lance’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean –”

“It is alright,” Shiro said, quiet. “I know it is a weakness, and a deformity, and you deserve much better…”

“Shiro, Shiro, no!” Lance exclaimed frantically, cupping his face and shaking his head. “That’s not what I think at all. I just meant, you don’t have to tell me how you lost it, because I’m sure it’s a very unpleasant memory for you.”

Shiro glanced up. “Yes,” he said, eyes a little hazy, almost fogged over. Lance kept a hand on Shiro’s face, and Shiro leaned into it. “There was a fire…”

“Shiro…”

“Everyone was burning, dying,” he murmured, gaze still unfocused. “Screaming. People scream a lot when they’re burning alive. And the smell…I’m told it was bad, but I could only smell the heat and the smoke. My family died that day. My mother begged me to save her before the roof fell in. I couldn’t save her. My arm was stuck under a piece of rubble…I ripped it free and ran. I ran away. My arm could not be saved. But it was better off than my family.” He blinked, eyes clearing a little as he met Lance’s horrified gaze. “It should have been me. I thought that for a long time! All through the War, especially when I realized it was all for nothing, and revenge didn’t taste as sweet as I thought it would. But then I met you! And it’s easier now, to forget, because you make life worth living!”

Lance rarely cried. He was about to now. Instead he crumpled forward and said against Shiro’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

Shiro hugged him. “Don’t be sorry! You are good and wonderful and it isn’t your fault, none of it is!”

“Please stop,” Lance pleaded. “You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore.”

“I wanted it to be you,” Shiro said suddenly, earnestly.

“…What?”

“When Nyma bit me!” Shiro smiled, patting Lance’s back. “I know what rusalka venom does, so I kept my eyes closed. And then I heard you! And I opened them.”

Lance stared at him. Was it really possible that Shiro made a conscious choice to look at him instead of Nyma or the other nixies? “I didn’t want this to happen to you,” Lance whispered, touching Shiro’s face softly, tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sad,” Shiro said, and before Lance could react Shiro was urging him down onto the bed, and Lance squirmed in confusion, and Shiro kissed him. Lance’s breath caught in his throat at the gentle press of his lips and body, and gasped softly when Shiro’s mouth continued across his cheek and under his jaw, down his neck, sweeping his shirt aside to kiss the blue spots on his shoulders. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Shiro,” Lance breathed, clinging to him – despite the way his brain screamed for him to push Shiro far away before either of them did something they’d both regret later, his every instinct told him to hang on tight and never let go. Shiro nosed under his jaw and exhaled hotly over the skin, snuggling closer and sighing happily when Lance’s legs tangled with his. 

They rolled onto their sides and Shiro held him and murmured sweet nothings, and because Lance was a weak coward, he mentally planned his future apology speech to Shiro instead of leaving like he should have.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you thought i forgot about this but I NEVER FORGET AND I ALWAYS FINISH MY SHIT EVENTUALLY.
> 
> enjoy, and thank you for all your comments and support on chapter 1 <3

Lance awoke to Shiro wrapped around him very tightly and three very worried faces staring down at him. 

“Shiro, let go of Lance! He has work to do!” Florona snapped, tugging ineffectually on Shiro’s arms where they were locked around Lance’s waist.

“Lance doesn’t want to work,” Shiro protested, bringing Lance closer to his chest and glaring stubbornly up at her. “He needs to sleep!”

“All of this could have been easily averted if you just kept a rusalka venom antidote on hand like I suggested ages ago,” Pidge grumbled.

“Pidge?!” Lance exclaimed, voice muffled in Shiro’s chest. 

“Shhh,” Shiro said, patting Lance’s head. “Go back to sleep, beautiful.”

“You hear that? It’s the sound of me, barfing in my mouth,” Pidge said, arms folded. “Keith and Hunk told me it was bad, but I never could’ve imagined this. Talk about out of character...”

“Nothing is bad when Lance is involved,” Shiro argued. He was smelling Lance’s hair again.

“Lance!” Plaxum exclaimed, peeking out from behind Florona, her eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

“’M good,” Lance mumbled. “A little squished.”

“I’m sorry!” Shiro said, looking down at Lance with soft, concerned eyes, and loosened his grip enough for Lance to breathe fully. He looked back up at Florona accusingly. “He will be alright if you let him sleep. You haven’t been letting him sleep.”

“You do have some pretty impressive dark circles,” Pidge remarked.

Florona huffed. “Being the Lord of Avalon is no easy task. Now, let my brother go, or I shall have no choice but to resort to using force.”

“Flora, no,” Lance said, squirming slightly. “Shiro’s just doing what he thinks is best for me.”

“Maybe he has a point?” Plaxum ventured. “Lance has been really busy…”

“Lance, busy?” Pidge raised an eyebrow. “He’s more used to frolicking about as he pleases.”

“Exactly,” Shiro said. “You have not been letting him frolic!”

Pidge snorted. Florona glared. “Lance, this is a serious matter. Order your human to unhand you at once!”

“One, he’s not my human,” Lance said, despite the fact that Shiro was cooing, “Yours, yours, yours,” under his breath. “Two, I’m exhausted, Flora. And let’s be honest, you and I both know Shiro’s not going to let me work today, he’ll be trailing me like a puppy the whole time.”

“Then we lock him away somewhere,” Florona declared grimly.

Shiro held onto Lance desperately. “No! No, no, I’ll be good, please don’t make me leave Lance, I need to be with him –!”

“Nobody’s locking Shiro up anywhere,” Lance hissed. Florona winced at the vitriol in his tone and Shiro nuzzled gratefully at his jaw and over the crystal at his throat, suggestive enough to make Lance flush. He was just glad Shiro was managing to keep the groping to a minimum, considering his sisters and a rather young dryad were _right there_. Small victories. Even if Shiro was rubbing his stubbly face all over Lance’s smooth skin obsessively, he had _some_ idea of boundaries left. 

“I second that; if you try to lock up Shiro like a criminal I’ll break him out myself,” Pidge said firmly. “Rusalka venom makes prolonged separation extremely painful – Shiro would be in agony if you forced him to stay away. He doesn’t deserve that, and he’s not doing any harm now.”

“He does look…happy,” Plaxum offered. 

“I am so happy,” Shiro sighed. “Because Lance is here!”

“Oh, brother,” Pidge said.

“Fine,” Florona huffed. “Then what is to be done of all the meetings and the feast? The rest of your subjects from the Lancerion River are arriving tomorrow morning, including some of the oldest fae for miles – you must be there to greet them! Would you rather Aunt Luxia did so instead?!”

“No, I would rather you did,” Lance said.

Florona blinked. “…What? Me?”

“Yes, you,” Lance said, sitting up as much as Shiro would allow him. “I said that you’d make a better head of the family than me, and I meant it.”

Florona bit her lip. “You’re certain?”

“Yes,” Lance said. “If you feel up to the challenge, that is…”

“Hmph, of course I am,” Florona retorted. “Aunt Luxia won’t boss anyone around under my watch.”

“Then I name you Lady Regent of Avalon while I am…otherwise indisposed,” Lance sighed, looking down at Shiro, who was still latched onto him. “Which will hopefully be no more than a week.”

“Don’t lie, you love the attention,” Pidge said archly. “Normal Shiro isn’t half as touchy-feely.”

“No, he isn’t,” Lance admitted.

“Then Normal Shiro is a fool,” Shiro declared. “Touching you is wonderful.”

“Aaand that’s our cue to leave; come along, Plaxum, Pidge,” Florona said hastily, shepherding the two of them out whilst glowering at Lance over her shoulder. Pidge stuck her tongue out at Florona, shot Lance a thumbs-up, and disappeared in a swirl of sycamore leaves. 

“Was it something I said?” Shiro asked innocently while slipping his hand under Lance’s tunic. 

“Don’t play at coy, you rogue,” Lance admonished, but Shiro’s touch did feel nice. More than nice. And the thought of not having to be Lord of Avalon for a week was even nicer. 

Shiro chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows. “Me, a rogue? Never.” He lifted Lance’s hands and kissed his knuckles, gaze dark and steady. “Unless you want me to be…”

Lance groaned and pushed him away, shaking his head. “No, no, nope, cease your seduction at once, we talked about this.”

Shiro pouted. “Did we? I don’t recall…”

Lance was not strong enough for this. “I thought you wanted me to rest,” he tried.

“I could ride you again?” Shiro suggested helpfully. 

Lance pressed his palms to his eyelids and groaned. “You’re killing me.” Shiro gasped and checked his pulse worriedly. Lance rolled his eyes and shook his head fondly. “It’s just a figure of speech, silly.”

“Oh, good,” Shiro said, sighing in utter relief. “I would weep for eternity if I killed you, Lance.”

“Weep for…oh, dear.” Lance squeezed his hand. “Please don’t. Let’s just…sleep, okay? Like we were before. I _am_ rather tired.”

“I know,” Shiro assured him. “Can we snuggle?”

“But of course,” Lance laughed, rolling over obediently so Shiro could curl against his back and hold him close. “Goodnight…day…morning?”

Shiro kissed the curved tip of his ear and smoothed a hand down his side. “Just sleep, my love.”

Lance hummed in easy assent and closed his eyes, settling back against the human’s steady warmth.

*

“Shiro,” Lance mumbled, stirring awake slowly and blinking in the dimness of the room. “Shiro? Where…”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Shiro exclaimed, leaping onto the bed so that he was nose-to-nose with Lance. Lance’s heart almost seized. Shiro tilted his head. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Lance nudged him away gently so he could sit up. “It’s alright…what time is it?” He glanced to the curtains, which were flung open, revealing the starry night sky and the dark, flowing waters of the Arusian River. Lance’s eyes widened. “Did I sleep through the entire day?!”

“Yes!” Shiro said happily. “You are very well-rested now. And it’s perfect timing, anyway.”

Lance was lost. “Perfect…timing…?”

Shiro tossed him some clothes. “Yes, we’re going on an adventure! Since you miss your frolicking days.”

Lance blinked at the clothes. They were gauzy and strappy garments, meant for… “Swimming?” Lance said in bewilderment. “But it’s the middle of the night!”

Shiro was undeterred. “That’s the best time to go! And there’s plenty of moonlight, don’t worry. I’ll be able to see your beautiful face even if I don’t have proper night vision like you.”

Lance squinted suspiciously at him. “You had this planned, didn’t you? What’s this about?”

Shiro just winked, and promptly began stripping to change into swimming garments of his own.

Lance looked away, face hot, and told himself that patience was a virtue.

*

“Oh,” Lance breathed, looking around the small forest cave with awe. “This place is beautiful, Shiro, however did you find it?”

“A little luck! Only the best for you,” Shiro promised.

The cave walls were covered in a thick layer of healthy emerald moss, and the moonlight streamed in through a break in the boulders that formed the ceiling, revealing the starry night sky and the treetops above. It shone on the water, which was deep and clea;, a pool formed not from stagnant, collecting rainwater but from a natural spring. In the warm summer air, it was pleasantly cool to the touch, and Shiro wasted no time in wading in. 

Lance hesitated. “Shiro…it’s generally considered a bad idea for humans to go swimming with nixies. You know that, and I know if you were in your right mind you wouldn’t be so keen about doing this with…with me.”

Shiro tilted his head and frowned. “Why not? I trust you, Lance.”

Lance folded his arms. “That’s…that’s not the point. The point is, I…” He sighed. “Well, it’s harder for me to keep my glamour up underwater, Shiro. Maybe rusalka venom blinds you to how monstrous I look to humans without glamour, but –”

Shiro shook his head earnestly. “Lance, you’re beautiful all the time, glamour or not! It will not make me love you any less.”

Lance sighed, frustrated. “Fine, fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The water closed in over his head like a second skin as he slipped under it, and he let himself sigh, magic rippling through him, eyes fluttering open slowly underwater. He was surprised to see Shiro inches away from him, staring dazedly and grinning like a fool, and Lance grinned back although he could feel how long and sharp his teeth had become in his widened mouth. It was only when Shiro’s eyes started to lose focus that Lance remembered _he couldn’t breathe underwater,_ and with a burbled curse Lance yanked him up and out.

Shiro’s head broke the surface of the water and he drew in a long, calm breath of air, still blinking at Lance softly. Lance wanted to scream. Shiro would have _drowned_ himself just to make heart eyes at him. Rusalka venom was officially the worst. 

“You are so gorgeous,” Shiro told him, flopping forwards to lean his head on Lance’s shoulder. 

Lance could see his own reflection in the water. He looked like the terrifying illustrations in human children’s books, too tall and sharp and inhuman to be anything but cold and cruel. His eyes gleamed glow worm blue in the darkness, illuminating Shiro’s face and casting it in strange shadows. Under the water, his hands and feet were fully webbed and clawed, his blue spots pulsed with a glow just like his eyes, and his tail curled slowly around, longer than his legs and tipped with a wide fin that cut through the water easily, creating a current.

Shiro watched it move with open curiosity. “Hmph,” Lance said, and smacked his shoulder lightly with the fin. Shiro giggled and grabbed ahold of the appendage, running careful fingertips over it. Lance shivered at the unexpected attention. “Shiro…”

“Why didn’t you ever show me this before?” Shiro asked, painfully genuine and confused. “You as you truly are, I mean.”

Lance’s tail curled away from his grasp, winding itself defensively between his legs. “Humans like pretty things. Not this.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “I like you,” he said in a small voice.

Lance threw up his hands, water splashing between them. “Shiro, of course you like me, your bloodstream is full of the world’s oldest and most powerful love potion right now! But if it wasn’t, you’d understand what I’m saying; you’d understand that there’s nothing attractive about needle-sharp teeth as long as your thumb –”

“I beg to differ,” Shiro said, looking at Lance through his lashes. “I find them very attractive.”

Lance faltered. Made a startled sound high in his throat. “You. Wh – what?”

“I like your sharp, sharp teeth, Lance,” Shiro crooned, sidling closer in the water. “I wonder how they’d feel on my skin. _In_ my skin…”

Lance gawked at him. “You’ve officially lost it,” he squeaked. 

But Shiro tipped his head to the side, exposing the pale, soft, tantalizing line of his neck, and said, “Bite me, Lance.”

Lance spluttered. “No! This is not – you’re failing at being a human, Shiro, utterly failing! Bad human! Bad survival instincts!”

Shiro was not dissuaded. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “But…don’t you want to? Don’t you want to leave your marks all over me, where everyone can see them, so everyone knows I’m yours? I want you to.”

And Lance was about to protest vehemently, was about to snap that Shiro was an utter fool and that Lance would not hurt him no matter how much he begged…but then the moonlight caught the bite marks Nyma had left on Shiro’s neck. 

Lance paused. Stiffened, his claws curling and digging into his palms. His jaws clicked shut and his eyes narrowed, focusing on the unwanted mark, all at once unable to see anything else. 

“Yours,” Shiro repeated, soft and sweet, like he knew exactly what Lance was thinking.

Lance’s lips peeled back from his teeth. “Terrible human,” he whispered, a low hiss, and then he darted forward and sank his teeth into Shiro’s neck.

Well, more like his shoulder, because Lance did not wish to harm Shiro even if he was more than capable of doing so. Blood filled his mouth and bloomed red in the water and Lance remembered killing human trespassers a long, long time ago, and realized that this was entirely different. 

They had thrashed, struggled like beached fish and shouted in fury and agony as he ripped into them. But Shiro only moaned and clung to him, bringing him closer, bringing their bodies together. And Lance did not rip; only sliced, clean and quick, dragging his tongue over the punctures as his teeth withdrew. Shiro moaned louder at that, arching into the touch. 

Against his own volition, Lance’s tail had decided Shiro’s legs were better than his own, and was wrapping determinedly around them, stroking up, up, up between his thighs. Shiro was hard; Lance could feel the heat swelling under his thin clothes, shockingly warm against his cooler skin and the water. Lance’s tail rubbed over the visible bulge of his cock and Shiro keened, squirming in his grasp and whining shamelessly. Lance licked again over the drying blood and looked at him with hooded eyes. 

“What do you want; you foolish, greedy human?”

“You,” Shiro begged, face flooded with color. “Please Lance, please, I need you!”

Lance tried to cling to some last, pathetic vestige of control as he thought, _Don’t_. 

But the sound of Shiro’s blatant desperation was music to his ears and the water felt like power in its purest form and the taste of blood was sharp and hot on his tongue and it made him want to do terrible things. _Terrible faery._

So Lance shoved him back onto the smooth wet rocks and Shiro went easily, went easily despite the strength in his muscled body and the scars covering it, scars left by other fae. All except for the newest of them, the thick slice of pink over Shiro’s chest from Sendak’s axe. Anger bubbled up in Lance's chest and he covered the scars with his mouth, sucking hard and scratching his claws over Shiro's rippling abdomen, squeezing his chest where it gave under his palms, leaving thin red lines across the human's skin and hating himself for it. Shiro had been hurt enough already; he didn't deserve this. 

But Lance was weak and could not stop himself from pinning Shiro down and ruining his throat with bruises while Shiro writhed and pleaded under him. His left shoulder was streaked with blood and his head was still thrown back, his pulse beating in the moonlight, vulnerable and seemingly uncaring of his vulnerability in a way so unlike him that Lance's blood boiled.

"You're not him," Lance snarled, lifting his head to glare down at Shiro, his chest rising and falling unevenly. "He would never do this." _He would never let me do this._

"I am," Shiro promised, eyes wide and dark. "I'm still me, Lance. You're glowing, ah, you're everything I've ever wanted, please, Lance –”

"You shouldn't want me," Lance said, shaking his head even as his lips brushed over Shiro's jaw and the human shivered with apparent delight. "You should have ended it before it started in that tent six months ago, Shiro. But instead you played nice, you were kind and brave and a good man and look where it got you, Shiro! Look where you are now, trapped inside your own head under a faery spell because of me, because you chose me; don't you see, this can never be! We can never be, Shiro, we never should have been; we are water and oil and there is no changing that, never!"

"We can be," Shiro breathed. "We will be, Lance, I will do anything to make it so!"

"You will hate me when this is done," Lance warned.

"I could never hate you." Shiro met his gaze, eyes flashing bright. "Fuck me."

Lance bared his teeth. "That is all you want; all you ever want is my body, selfish shallow creature that you are!"

"No," Shiro said, his face falling, deeply hurt. "I love you."

Lance barked out a laugh, choked on it - it was an ugly sound. "Love! You know nothing of love, your mind is fogged with a temporary artificial infatuation and that is all –"

"I love you," Shiro repeated, more firmly. "I know I love you more than I have ever loved anyone before. I have never loved anyone half as much."

"You are young and naïve," Lance said. "Your love is imagined, you will come to your senses and realize I am right, you do not love me, how could you love me –"

"I know that I love you when I hear the sound of your laughter – it is like a hundred ringing bells, small and light and beautiful, the most beautiful sound I have ever heard."

Lance growled and tore at his pants, claws shredding the sheer fabric. "Shut up."

"I love the way the sun catches your eyes, illuminates them from the inside out like shards of the finest stained glass, the color of the first and loveliest forget-me-nots of spring – and I will never forget you, Lance."

"Stop it, stop, you don't know what you're saying," Lance hissed as Shiro spread his legs and wrapped them tight around Lance's waist, pulling him close, pulling him in. The tip of Lance's cock nudged at slickness, and he swore, because Shiro had planned for this again. It made him furious and aroused all at once. 

Shiro watched his jaw tighten and said earnestly, "I fingered myself open while you were asleep."

Lance bit him a second time. Shiro shuddered in satisfaction, blood staining his pale skin, and groaned loud when Lance's cock breached him mercilessly. "Is this what you wanted?" Lance panted, hips pumping and tail lashing in agitation, ears pinned flat against his skull. "Is this what you want from me?!"

"I want anything and everything you would give me," Shiro gasped, spine bowing and mouth falling open as Lance thrust in hard, harder, hardest. "Your touch, your kiss, your laugh, your smile, your voice, your love, your hand in marriage –"

Lance kissed him to make him stop talking. Shiro was delirious. He didn't mean any of it. But his body was so pliant and open and willing under Lance's and he whimpered so prettily when Lance took his thick, leaking cock in hand and swiped a claw tip carefully over the head, a tease of danger. 

"I want this now," Shiro moaned, eyes rolling back, "because I know you won't – you won't want me when I am old and gray and weak and you are still beautiful, eternally beautiful –"

Lance faltered in his thrusts, braced over Shiro's body, staring down at him in disbelief. “You think I wouldn’t want you anymore? That I – that I would cast you aside at the first glimpse of a wrinkle?!”

Shiro’s head lolled to the side and he gazed up at Lance from heavy-lidded eyes, lips parted and body shining with sweat and water droplets. “You have lived ten thousand years, and I – ah…I will live perhaps fifty more, sixty at most…I do not expect you to keep me around when you deserve only beautiful things…whole things.” Shiro’s gaze dropped to his right arm, the faery metals shining against the dull dark rocks, the prosthetic’s surface etched with the faintly glowing glyphs that connected it to Shiro and his will. The connection point was marred by old scar tissue, pink and silvery, the same color as the slice across Shiro’s nose. 

Lance touched that scar with a single claw, tipping Shiro’s face back up, and whispered, “You _are_ beautiful and whole.” 

He said nothing else; could say nothing else when he thought of Shiro fully expecting to be abandoned; when he thought of Shiro wandering the world alone and dying alone without even a grave or a pyre or anyone to comfort him in his last moments; when he thought of Shiro old and barely able to walk, or see, or hear, or remember his own name. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that something like that, something so inevitable yet awful, could happen to Shiro, his Shiro. Especially when Lance would never know the ravages of age, would never find himself forgetting or falling apart – why should he be immortal when he had done nothing to deserve it? 

He had done nothing but waste his endless time, squander it with flings and flirtation and frivolities, shirking every responsibility until war and revenge drove him to do something worthwhile. And even that, even that mission to infiltrate the Galra camp and put himself at risk had been selfish at heart. Lance had been angry and grieving and reckless and a part of him had wanted to be killed in that camp, in that tent with his wrists bound and his crystal stolen and a human soldier with an iron arm looming over him. He had welcomed it, dared death to finally catch him after so many centuries of evasion. 

But Shiro hadn’t killed him. Shiro had saved him, and treated him with a tenderness he had only ever read about in storybooks.

How Lance wished he could have met Shiro long before the war and spirited him away, shielded him from the pain he had endured in this life, show him the truth of it all – that not all fae were evil and not all humans were good; and that in fact the world was tangled and gray and the only thing that was certain was that Shiro would waste away and die, and Lance would not.

“You are crying,” Shiro whispered back, his legs tight around Lance’s waist and his body tight around Lance’s cock, frantic to keep him close as possible. “How is it that even your tears are beautiful? Like diamonds falling; oh Lance, don’t cry, I only wanted you to be happy. I love you so much.”

“I won’t leave you,” Lance promised, tucking his face into Shiro’s bruised neck and breathing him in, salt and sweat and iron, _human._ “You are precious to me, and time will not change that, Shiro. Know this.” He swallowed, and squeezed his eyes shut, his claws digging into Shiro’s hips as he began to move again, the human’s moans and whines drowning out Lance’s whispered words. “Know that even if you are saying only what the venom forces you to, I – I have no venom in my veins and I love you, I love you very much, and I am so sorry.”

Shiro’s blunt nails gripped Lance’s back and his spine arched as he came, a taut bowstring’s sudden release. He was raw power under Lance’s hands, at Lance’s mercy. If Lance closed his eyes, he could feel the power thrumming, a kind of latent magic under Shiro’s skin – a different magic from his own, a mortal magic, but magic nonetheless. Lance kept his face hidden in Shiro’s neck and hid a kiss in the hollow of his throat as he came inside him, fucking him through it until Shiro slumped, power gone. 

After a minute or two of aching silence Lance slowly lifted himself up on his elbows, blinking the tears out of his eyes. Shiro was very still on the rocks under him, eyes closed and expression serene, chest rising and falling evenly, cock softening in its own spending across his thighs. Asleep.

Lance brushed a curl of white hair out of Shiro’s face. The moonlight caught his handsome features strikingly; he looked so peaceful bathed in its soft luminescence. 

The water lapped at the sides of the pool and over their legs, whispering, _Stay, stay, stay._

But humans were fragile, prone to catching cold and falling ill, and Lance had vowed a long time ago to take good care of Shiro. So he gathered the human up in his arms, washed them both clean in the quiet pool, and called upon the magic in his crystal to take them home as the sun rose upon the horizon. 

*

Florona’s face was thunderous.

“What,” she gritted out, gawking at Shiro’s bruises and scabbing-over bitemarks with barely-contained rage, “did you _do_ to him?!” She held up a finger. “And don’t you dare try to be smart with me now, Lancerion, I swear! He looks like a…a used chew toy!”

“Solid simile,” Pidge said dryly. 

Lance flailed at her. “Why are _you_ even here?!”

“If you say I’m too young to talk about this shit, I _will_ send all the birds and bees that pollinate my tree into your bedroom immediately. Don’t try me, Lance.”

He scowled. “This isn’t either of your business. I made a mistake. Several mistakes. You don’t need to remind me. I’m just going to heal him, and –”

“And _what_ , hm?” Florona hissed. “You dropped your glamour, Lance! I don’t know what possessed you to do such a thing, but there is no going back from it. The human might be hopelessly enamored with you now, but when the venom wears off – he will still remember your monstrosity!”

Lance folded his arms huffily. Fae were not supposed to drop their glamour in polite society, though Lance doubted the hidden cave pool where he’d fucked Shiro was considered polite by any means. Most fae were sensitive about their true forms, and many spent hours perfecting their glamour to hide all the characteristics that had made humans so terrified of fae initially – the sharp teeth, the claws, the tails and wings and ears and animalistic features. Personally, Lance had always liked to keep a little hint of his true form in his daily appearance – he liked his sharp teeth and claws. 

But last night…that had been more than a hint. And he knew Florona was right – Shiro would not forget what Lance really looked like.

Shiro stirred on the bed, mumbling, “Lance is beautiful…so beautiful…a vision…”

“He wanted to see it,” Lance muttered. “He wanted me to swim with him.”

Pidge gave Shiro a despairing look. “And I thought Normal Shiro had no sense of self-preservation.” She sighed. “I mean, I guess he really trusts you? Or at least the rusalka venom does.”

“YOU _SWAM_ WITH HIM?!” Florona shouted. “IN THE _WATER?!_ ”

“No, in the lava,” Lance deadpanned. 

Shiro giggled and cracked his eyes open. “Lance is so funny.”

Florona said, “Alright, that’s it. Guards!”

Before Lance could protest, two guards marched into the room. To their credit, they looked only a little shocked to see the half-naked, slightly battered Shiro lying on the bed. “Yes, my Lady?” 

“Take the human to the healers at once, see that he receives proper treatment and is delivered back to Lord Lancerion’s quarters afterwards. Well? What are you waiting for, get to it!” The guards hurried to comply, gingerly lifting up Shiro, who made a weak sound of protest and reached out towards Lance though he was still half-asleep.

“Florona, stop, he can’t be away from me or –”

Florona shook her head firmly. “Half an hour or less will do no harm. You and I need to talk, Lancerion. In private.” Pidge grumbled and stomped out after Shiro and the guards. The door slammed shut and Lance whirled on his sister.

“You had no right –”

“How long has the human been courting you?”

Lance stopped. “…What?” 

Florona raised an eyebrow. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Lancerion.” When Lance continued to gape at her, her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, dear, you…you really don’t know.”

“Shiro isn’t courting me,” Lance snorted, “I don’t know what gave you the impression –”

“He arranged for you to swim with him in the Sacred Cave under the moonlight in your true form.”

Lance was sweating. “The…the cave is sacred?”

“Even if you defiled it, yes.” Florona rolled her eyes. “It is an ancient place inundated with ancient magic. Shiro knew this when he chose the location. Just as he knew that the water lilies he gathered for the midnight consummation grew on the banks of the Lancerion River – an offering to you, just like his body.”

Lance said, “What.”

Florona shook her head. “When he asked me where to find the most beautiful water lilies, I did not think of the ancient courtship rituals, but I realize now…” She frowned. “What I don’t understand is how the human even discovered the details of these rituals. They’re quite clandestine, even among fae.”

Lance whispered, “The…the library. Books. Shiro reads books.”

Florona raised an eyebrow coolly. “He’s literate, fantastic. I’m so proud.”

“No, no, it’s…oh, where did he put that…” Lance dove towards the nightstand and began yanking drawers open, rifling through it frantically and ignoring Florona’s pointed look at the several bottles of oil that he nearly upended in the process. 

“Do you really need so much?” 

“Do you really want me to answer that question?”

Florona sighed. “I think I see a book tucked under the pillow on the sofa over there, perhaps –”

Lance sprinted across the room. Florona watched him with a kind of hopeless resignation. Lance snatched up the book and promptly dropped it as soon as he saw the title. “Ancient Undine Courtship?!” he screeched. “Oh, no. No, no, no –”

“He had this book before Nyma bit him?” Florona asked mildly, picking it up and examining the volume with interest. “Oh, look at this, he even bookmarked pages. That is rather endearing, I’ll give him that much.”

“Nooo,” Lance moaned, sinking to the floor. “He…he was courting me. Flora. Flora, _he was courting me._ ”

“Is, present tense,” Florona corrected. She paused. “Oh…you mean, you’re not certain he’ll want to continue the courtship when the venom wears off?”

“Why would he,” Lance mumbled, despondent. “If he didn’t know what he was getting himself into before, now he sure does. If I were him, I wouldn’t hang around after!”

“No, you wouldn’t. You never have,” Florona said. He flinched, and she looked at him with some pity. “You’ve never been courted before, have you?”

“No,” Lance whispered. “Not truly, not once in ten thousand years…oh, Flora. He’s a human. A damn human.” He raised his eyes to her and shook his head. “He’s going to _die_ before Plax even takes her place in the court.”

Florona sighed. “This is true. But…don’t you think he thought of that before researching how to court you?”

Lance put his head in his hands. “Shiro deserves better than _me_ for the time he has left. He deserves more time. If I could just…just give him even a little of my time, a little more –”

“Maybe you can.”

“Pidge!” Lance shrieked, clutching his chest. The dryad was perched in the rafters, head tilted like an owl. 

Florona threw a shoe at her. “You are not supposed to be in here, you sly little leafling!”

Pidge dodged easily and swung down on a vine, cracking her knuckles and looking at Lance shrewdly. “You wanna make Shiro immortal?”

There was a heavy silence. 

“Is it possible?” Lance said in a small voice.

“Lancerion,” Florona warned, but he held up a hand, gaze set on Pidge.

“Answer the question first,” Pidge said. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, yes, I do!”

“Lancerion!”

“You don’t understand!” Lance exclaimed. “I love him!”

“Knew it,” Pidge said under her breath.

Florona stared at him. “You’re a fool.”

“Maybe,” Lance admitted. “But I love him, and even if he changes his mind about me when the venom wears off, I want…I want to give him immortality, if he wants it.”

“It is possible,” Pidge told him. “Allura told me about it once – several dryads have done it before, with their trees. They transferred their lifeforce, their soul if you will, into the tree.”

“So the dryads died,” Florona said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“They didn’t die,” Pidge argued. “Well, I mean, some of them did, but that was because they were already mortally wounded and they transferred their soul so that their tree would continue to live. But some of them, the ones who were just fine, transferred _pieces_ of their soul to other trees – more specifically, into the dryads of those trees. So neither of them died.”

“But I’m not a dryad, genius,” Lance pointed out. 

“And nixies aren’t exactly known for selflessness,” Pidge retorted. 

“I’m trying, here!” Lance whined. “I’ll do it, alright, if there’s a way for me to – to give Shiro a part of my soul –”

“There’s a catch, though,” Pidge said.

“Of course there is, it’s faery magic,” Lance said. “Well?”

“The faery who gives a piece of soul is essentially giving the recipient a great deal of power over them,” Pidge explained. “As in, a deep bond is created between the two to the point where the recipient becomes extremely attuned to the owner of the soul’s emotions, thoughts, fears, et cetera. It would be like giving Shiro a book containing the contents of your mind in its entirety.”

“Oh,” Lance said faintly. “I…that is…quite a catch.”

“But does he open the book?” Pidge asked. “That’s the real question. Does he leave it shelved, or is he overcome with curiosity to take a peek? Does he like what he sees? Or does he decide to burn the book and do away with it altogether?”

“I don’t like this book analogy,” Florona said uneasily. “What do you mean, _burn_ the book?”

“Well,” Pidge replied, “if Shiro knew the contents to Lance’s mind, he could hurt him pretty effectively, if he wished.”

Florona blanched, and looked nauseous just from thinking about the possibilities.

“Do I get a book?” Lance asked hopefully. 

“Nope,” Pidge said. “You get a torn soul.”

“And an immortal human,” Lance added.

“And that, if it works; otherwise you get a dead human.”

“What?!” Lance yelped. “Shiro could _die_?”

“Pretty small chance of failure, but yes, that is the alternative.”

There was a distant shout from elsewhere in the castle that gave all of them pause – Shiro, calling for Lance. Lance really wished he got a book, a book that told him what the fuck he was supposed to do now. Because he sure as hell didn’t know. 

“You should go to him,” Florona said reluctantly. 

“Allura knows more about the ritual than me,” Pidge added. “You should contact her if you really want to go through with this, Lance.”

“If Shiro really wants to go through with this,” Lance said. “Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s content with…the time he has.”

“Maybe you should ask him instead of making assumptions,” Pidge offered, and summoned a vine to swing out the window.

And Lance would have loved to follow her advice, would have, if Shiro wasn’t currently incapable of rational thought involving Lance.

*

Lance didn’t tell Shiro he’d found the book. He knew Shiro would be upset and guilty in this state, and Lance had no desire to cause him further harm. Shiro clung to him happily the whole walk back to his chambers, and Lance weathered the stares his subjects gave him as they did so. He heard some whispers, snatches of gossip in passing – _Do you suppose he doses it with rusalka venom all the time? What a brutish creature, reduced to a drooling puppy! I actually feel quite sorry for the poor thing. Did you hear Lord Lancerion exiled Nyma from Avalon? Does the little lord actually care for the human?_  
Needless to say, Lance was in a foul mood by the time they reached his room. 

Shiro could tell, because of course he could, and began fretting at once. “Lance, what’s wrong? Do you want me to draw you up a bath? Do you want me to give you a massage? Or, oh, perhaps a walk around the grounds, some fresh air might do you good…or I could make you a pie –”

“Shiro, enough,” Lance snapped. Shiro’s shoulders drooped. “That’s – wait. A pie? You can…bake pies?”

Shiro perked right up. “Yes! I used to make blackberry pies with my mother all the time, I can make you one if you’d like –”

“Can I make it with you?” Lance asked.

“Of course!” Shiro beamed at him. “Is there a blackberry patch near here?”

“Actually, yes,” Lance replied, feeling giddy and wonderful all of a sudden. Shiro tended to have that effect on him. “There is, not far at all!” Then he saw the faded bruises on Shiro’s neck and paused. “Are you sure you’re up for a blackberry picking excursion?” 

Shiro scoffed and scooped Lance up like he was light as a feather, ignoring Lance’s indignant squawk. “I’m perfectly fine, Lance. Although I appreciate your concern! You’re so considerate, sweetheart.” He kissed Lance’s forehead.

Lance swatted at him. “Shiro, c’mon.”

“Sorry!” Shiro chirped unapologetically, setting him back down. “Now…we’re going to need some baskets…”

*

It was a lovely day, and there was something ridiculously idyllic about strolling through the forest with Shiro, each of them with a woven basket and gloves to protect from the thorny bushes they sought. Pidge had seen them off with a cackle of laughter, and Florona was likely to give Lance a piece of her mind when they returned, but for now all Lance could think of was how right his hand felt clasped in Shiro’s, and how beautiful Shiro looked in the morning sunshine. 

“So,” Lance said to him as they walked along the riverbank, admiring the shimmering surface of the water and watching the frogs and minnows dart about in the shallows, “was your mother a baker, or did she simply enjoy pie making?”

“She was a baker, yes!” Shiro replied, beaming. “The best baker for miles. Half the town lined up every morning for a roll of fresh bread.” He smiled ruefully. “I was quite a chubby child as a result.”

“You, chubby?” Lance was delighted at the thought. “I’m sorry I never got to see that.”

“There’s still time,” Shiro said. “My mother used to pinch my cheeks and call me her little currant bun.”

“Currant bun!” Lance chortled. “I may start using that nickname…”

“Don’t you dare!” Shiro giggled. 

Lance shrugged with a smirk. “No promises, currant bun. So, your mother was a baker – and your father?”

“A blacksmith,” Shiro said. “I suppose that’s where I lost all the baby fat. I helped him often in his work…usually dull things like pots and pans and such, but occasionally he was commissioned for swords and armor. That was more exciting.”

“Ironwork?” Lance guessed.

“Yes, not the best place for fae,” Shiro said apologetically. “I met quite a few knights as a boy…many of them faery hunters who showed off their trophies to the town.” He bit his lip. “I thought them quite heroic, back in the day. I was very foolish then.”

Lance glanced at him, and then back to the path. “We used to drown humans who trespassed into Avalon,” he said. “We were very foolish then, too.”

“You had reason to fear us,” Shiro said quietly. 

“You had reason to fear us, too,” Lance said. He squeezed Shiro’s hand. “I’m glad that times have begun to change. Allura is quite dedicated to keeping the peace between humans and fae…and if anyone can do it, she can.”

“You could, too,” Shiro said. “You certainly changed my mind.”

“Yes, well,” Lance mumbled, “I can hardly go about changing every human’s mind the same way I changed yours – oh!”

Shiro half-shoved him up against the nearest tree, his eyes dark. “You better not,” he said, low and intense. Lance shivered and tugged him closer, loving the hard press of Shiro’s body at his front and the dull scrape of the tree trunk at his back. Shiro leaned in, until Lance could feel his breath on his lips. “Only I get to have you.”

“Yes,” Lance whispered, tilting his head up in invitation…

…only for a creature to burst out of the undergrowth with a thunderous snarl.

Shiro moved hastily in front of Lance, but Lance nudged him away, folding his arms and glaring at the creature. It was a drake, a large, rust-colored draconic beast without wings, its head horned and its spine maned with flickering fire. It stared at them from large, reflective violet eyes, and hissed with a flicker of black tongue, pawing at the earth and ripping at it with long golden claws. 

“Keith, really?” Lance exclaimed, hands on his hips. “I thought you were still at the palace!”

The drake huffed and sat back on its haunches, still watching Shiro with narrowed eyes. “Allura heard about Shiro and thought it best to send me your way,” he growled. “I hardly recognized him – rusalka venom gives off powerful dark magic.”

“He’s fine,” Lance said defensively, putting an arm around Shiro’s waist. “He hasn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re just going blackberry picking.”

“Of course you are,” Keith grumbled. “Lovesick fools.”

Lance stuck out his tongue. “You’re just jealous. How’s Hunk’s antidote coming along?”

Keith shrugged his spiky shoulders. “Dunno, I’m no alchemist. Something exploded the last time I was in his lab, and he kicked me out after that.” He exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Every flame-related incident isn’t _my_ fault.”

“’Course not.”

Keith turned to Shiro and gave him a critical once-over, raising one scaly eyebrow. “How are you feeling, Shiro?”

“Just dandy,” Shiro said, still sticking close to Lance. “You can pick blackberries with us if you want, but if you touch Lance, you’ll be sorry.”

Keith gave him a flat look, then Lance. “Humans are so stupid,” he said.

Lance gasped and covered Shiro’s ears. “You’re just jealous!”

“Someone’s jealous, and it isn’t me,” Keith said pointedly, tail flicking behind him as he stood. “I’ll pass on the blackberries, but if you’re making pie, I want some. Meet you back at Avalon…is Pidge there already?”

“Yep, somewhere around there,” Lance said, praying that Pidge wouldn’t tell Keith about the whole immortality thing, because the last thing he needed was a fire faery blowing up on him. “See you later, salamander.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Try not to get any thorns in your ass,” he said, and bounded off through the trees before Lance could chuck a snowball at him.

*

Blackberry picking was wonderful. Shiro was delighted by the healthiness of the patch, and kept exclaiming over how they were the best things he’d ever tasted. Lance kept getting distracted from the task at hand by the happy flush in Shiro’s cheeks and the spark in his eyes whenever he held up a particularly plump handful of berries triumphantly. 

Shiro also kept babbling on and on about childhood nostalgia too, which was certainly new. Lance felt a little bad that the rusalka venom had seemingly uncorked all of Shiro’s bottled up past and private thoughts, but at the same time…he enjoyed learning more about Shiro, and in fact more about human life in general. He’d never given it much thought in years’ past – why learn about the lives of your sworn enemies? – except when it came to the few kind humans he’d encountered on the banks of his river. He had been fascinated by the brief fragments of their lives he’d been witness to, though he’d never exactly gotten the chance to actually speak to them about it.

Lance gathered that Shiro had been very close to his family, and thankfully Shiro didn’t bring up the fire that had killed them again. He only spoke of happy things, of good times before the war cast its dark shadow over human and faery lands alike. Shiro had been seventeen when the war began and he had joined Zarkon’s army, and Lance had always assumed that the humans who joined the army were misguided and must have had terrible lives before that, but Shiro had not. His village sounded like paradise, frankly, and at length Lance ventured to ask if Shiro ever planned on returning.

Shiro paused, hands full of blackberries. He deposited them carefully in his nearly-full basket before straightening up and saying, “Why would I?”

Lance folded his arms. “If you’re going to say it’s because I’m not there, don’t you dare.”

Shiro frowned. “But…you _aren’t_ there. I could never be happy there now, anyway. It is clouded with bad memories.” He reached out and smoothed his smooth metal fingertips over Lance’s cheek tenderly. “You hold only good memories, for me. I only want good memories from now on.”

“You deserve all the best memories,” Lance told him, holding Shiro’s hand to his face. “For…for however long they may last you.”

Shiro smiled, entirely missing Lance’s melancholic train of thought. “So do you,” he whispered back, like a secret, and tucked a white blackberry flower behind Lance’s ear. 

*

Back at Avalon, after Lance had commandeered the kitchen for the express purpose of pie-making and Shiro had roped a reluctant Keith and slightly less reluctant Pidge into it, he held the white flower in his brown palms and tried to will it not to die. He tried to feel his soul, whatever that was, and put a tiny piece of it into the flower. He thought, _You will not wither, you will not fall apart, you will never turn to dust and rot._ He even swore his crystal began to glow, just a little.

But the flower was already wilting by the time Shiro got the first of the pies into the oven. 

“I think that damn rusalka venom broke Shiro,” Keith hissed, desperately trying to scrub the blackberry juice stains off his fingers. “Nobody, human or fae, gets this excited about making pies. It’s downright unnatural.”

“Oh, lay off,” Pidge snorted, stealing a couple blackberries and popping them into her mouth with relish. “He’s having so much fun, and he’s not groping Lance. It’s a win/win, in my opinion.”

“Lance wanted pies!” Shiro declared, stepping purposefully in between Pidge and the blackberries bowl. Undeterred, Pidge summoned a vine to steal a few more anyway. “My mother always made the best pies, you know.”

“We know,” Keith gritted out. 

“His mother called him her little currant bun,” Lance informed Pidge and Keith cheerfully, stuffing the flower into his pocket and trying to forget about it. Shiro squawked and moved to cover Lance’s mouth. He ended up overbalancing, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Shiro had flour all over his fingers, and Lance giggled and squirmed under him when Shiro drew floury white patterns over his face, swirling under his blue spots. Shiro’s mouth followed them, peppering Lance’s face with kisses while Lance attempted to tickle him and mostly failed.

Keith sighed heavily. “These pies better be the best pies I’ve ever had,” he said.

*

They were pretty excellent pies. Lance made sure they were served at the feast that night, and also made sure everyone knew who made them. Shiro sat next to him at dinner, beaming and feeding Lance forkfuls of pie despite Lance’s (rather weak) protests that he could manage it himself. Plaxum was very complimentary of the pie, and got at least three slices. She kept exclaiming that Shiro’s pie was the best pie she’d ever had, and even worked up the courage to thank Shiro for making it. 

Shiro blinked at her, looking a bit confused, and then said, “No need to thank me! Lance was the real mastermind.”

Plaxum looked to Lance, knowing full well that he couldn’t bake for shit. Lance just shook his head and shrugged helplessly. Plaxum forced a smile at Shiro and said, “Well, thank you anyway. It’s very good.”

Florona enjoyed the pie, too, though she liked to keep a trim figure and only had one slice. Keith and Pidge had a couple slices each; Pidge because she was a growing dryad and Keith because he was trying his best to be supportive. Lance knew he preferred cherry.

Luxia, meanwhile, glared at Lance from the other end of the table and made a point of avoiding the pie altogether. Lance didn’t mind – it was her damn loss. The pie was delicious, and after he saw Aunt Luxia sulking, he didn’t stop Shiro from feeding it to him. Instead he encouraged it, and leaned in to kiss Shiro’s cheek when he’d had enough. Shiro reveled in the attention, and when Lance fed him some pie, he accepted it eagerly.

Lance was sorely tempted to let Shiro suck cream off his fingers, but grudgingly supposed he had to draw the line somewhere. He _could_ have done it, though – he was the Lord of this castle, and no one could tell him what to do. Lance may have disliked the responsibilities that came with the title, but the power that came with it was rather appealing. 

After the feast, Lance stood out on his balcony with Shiro and they named as many constellations as they could between them. They’d made a game of it back at the palace, after Lance had found a particularly good spot on the rooftop for viewing the night sky. Shiro liked the stars and knew all the human names and stories for them, while Lance knew only the faery tales. Fae viewed the stars in a different way than humans did. Lance had grown up being told that every star was another world, and that the sun itself was a star just like all the others, and that other worlds could see their sun, too.

Shiro was puzzled by this concept, but intrigued, and sometimes liked to speculate about those other worlds. Tonight, he mused, “Do you think there’s a world out there without fae or magic?”

Lance looked at him in surprise. “Without fae and magic? Why, what kind of a world would that be?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro said, hanging his head. “It was a foolish thought.”

“No, not foolish,” Lance said, tipping his chin back up. “It’s just…it’s a sad thought, I think. All I have ever known is magic and fae. Imagining a world without either is hard for me. Perhaps not for you, though.”

Shiro tilted his head. “No,” he murmured. “It is not hard for me to imagine you as a human. I think there must be a human you out there, somewhere.”

“Human? Me?” Lance repeated, baffled. “Do you wish I was human, Shiro?”

Shiro shook his head at once. “I love you as you are.”

But Lance was not so sure that wasn’t just the venom talking. “Hey,” he said quietly, “you can tell me if you do, Shiro. I would understand. To be quite honest, sometimes I think…having a human lover would be easier for you.”

Shiro frowned deeply. “I don’t want easy,” he said. “I want you.”

Lance snorted weakly, looking back at the stars. “Some would say those two words are synonymous.”

Shiro’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind, his chin resting close on Lance’s shoulder, his warmth surrounding Lance like a familiar blanket, a secure weight. “Some are idiots,” Shiro said.

“I demanded that you fuck me while tied up in an interrogation tent as your prisoner within an hour of meeting you,” Lance retorted, and Shiro chuckled, squeezing his waist. “Sounds easy to me.”

“Sounds like true love to me,” Shiro countered, and Lance flushed. “Hey.” Shiro pecked his cheek and nuzzled it after. “You’re perfect just like this, and anyone who says otherwise is either jealous or a fool.”

Lance swallowed back the lump in his throat. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Lance wanted to believe him so very badly. But it was nearly impossible, when it was coming from Shiro; perfect, tragic Shiro with his earnest eyes and tender touches and full heart. 

*

That night, when Shiro was safely asleep and snoring beside him, Lance contacted Allura in his scrying pool.

Her face appeared in the pool, calm and regal as ever, but her slight smile fell when she saw Lance’s troubled expression. “Lancerion?” she asked, brow furrowing. “Is everything alright?”

“Shh, shh, keep your voice low, Shiro’s sleeping,” Lance cautioned, glancing back at the bed where Shiro slumbered on. “I don’t have much time; he’ll wake up if I stay away for too long.”

Allura pursed her lips. “Ah, right, he is still under the influence of the rusalka venom. Is that what this is about? Hunk is still working on the antidote; really, he is trying his best but –”

“No, no…I mean, yes, sort of?” Lance rubbed his temple. “Not about the antidote, I know it’ll take to the end of the week. But it’s about Shiro. I, um. I’m in love with him, Allura.”

Allura raised an eyebrow. “That is a new one.”

“And, er, he’s…he’s been courting me, started to even before the venom,” Lance squeaked. “Officially. From the old traditions – he found a book, and, um, I didn’t realize until today when Florona told me and, and…”

“Oh, dear,” Allura murmured, eyes wide. “So, you think he loves you, too, and his behavior is more than just Nyma’s doing?”

“Yes?” Lance mumbled. “I…is that too far-fetched?”

“No,” Allura said. “It was clear as day to me when the two of you were staying at the palace. I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at Shiro, and he would do practically anything for you, I think.”

Lance covered his face. “So we’re in love, it seems.”

“It would seem that way, yes.”

“He’s a mortal, Allura.”

Allura sighed. “Yes, I am aware.” Then she paused. “Lance…wait. Don’t tell me you’ve been talking to Pidge about this…”

“The dryads and their life forces, yes, she told me,” Lance replied hastily. “That’s why I –”

Allura held up a hand, shaking her head slowly. “Lance, no. It cannot be done, not with you and Shiro.”

Lance bit his lip hard. “And why not?”

“The risk is too great,” she said gently. “Those dryads transferred their souls under great duress – they were on the verge of death themselves. It is true that not all of them died, but Lance…dryads are not nixies. Dryads deal in seeds of life. And nixies…”

“Deal in what?” Lance snapped. “Death?”

Allura looked at him with sorrow. “You are the heir to your family,” she told him. “You know that enough of us have been lost to humans already.”

“Lost,” Lance repeated dully. “Is that how you see it? Shiro – Shiro makes me feel alive, Allura. More alive than I’ve felt in decades, sometimes.”

“Then may you have a wonderful several decades with him,” Allura said.

“No!” Lance snapped. “No, I want more than that! He – he should have more than that!”

“And have you asked him how he feels on this matter?” Allura asked. Lance’s silence was all the answer she needed. “Lance, I am glad you are happy with Shiro. But sometimes what you want is not what is best. Humans are not meant to be immortal for a reason.”

“Why were we meant to be immortal?” Lance said in a small voice. “Why do we get that, and humans like Shiro don’t?”

“I don’t have these answers, Lance,” Allura said. “Believe me, I wish I did.”

There was a movement from the bed, and Shiro mumbled, “Lance…?”

“Go to him,” Allura urged. “I am sorry, Lance. But sometimes we must take the good things we are given in life, accept that they do not last forever, and enjoy them while they do last.”

“That isn’t fair,” Lance whispered. 

Shiro’s eyes began to open fully. “Lance?”

Allura ended the call, and the pool went blank and smooth, just like Lance’s face as he returned to bed.

Shiro reached for him and smiled guilelessly, drawing him back down onto the mattress. “Mmm, go to sleep,” he murmured.

“I love you,” Lance whispered, pressing his ear to Shiro’s chest, listening to his heart beat again. “For as long as I may have you.”

Shiro hummed happily in reply, and slipped off into sleep.

Lance wept into his pillow, and he did not have to look to know that the flower in his pocket was brown and crumbling by the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you, i always finish my shit.....eventually
> 
> this has been a LONG time comin, apologies for that, but I hope you enjoyed this fic and this final chapter in the story of Nixie Lance & (Ex) Fae Hunter Shiro~ it's been a fun time.

Three days had passed, and the venom showed no signs of waning. In fact, Lance was quite sure it was getting _worse_ …or better, depending on how one looked at it. 

Shiro had been touchy feely and snuggly at first, but now…well, he’d nearly killed a gancanagh who flirted with Lance at breakfast on the fourth day. Lance had been enjoying his scone and weathering the frisky faery’s obvious advances with mild annoyance, until the gancanagh brushed his hand against Lance’s ‘accidentally,’ prompting Shiro to threaten the shocked creature with his fork to its neck.

“Shiro, put that down,” Lance said out of the corner of his mouth, reaching for Shiro’s wrist. 

“He dared to touch you,” Shiro growled, the fork edging closer to the gancanagh’s throat. Shiro was holding it with the metal hand, and Lance had no doubt he could drive it forward with enough force to break skin. “He’s not allowed to do that.”

“I – I’m sorry!” the gancanagh stammered, staring at Shiro fearfully. 

Shiro glared back at him, unyielding. “I know what your kind are capable of,” he said. “Just like rusalkas, but with helpless women instead of men. A single touch, and they fall under your spell, descending into lovesick madness.” His lip curled. “Don’t lay your filthy, villainous hands on the Lord of Avalon ever again, or I will cut them off. Understood?”

“Shiro!” Lance exclaimed, shocked.

“Y-yes,” the gancanagh whispered, shaking. “I. I understand.”

“Good,” Shiro said. “Now apologize to him.”

The gancanagh’s terrified gaze lifted to Lance. “I’m so s-sorry, my Lord! It will never happen again!”

“Apology accepted,” Lance said, and gave Shiro a look. Shiro removed his fork, shot Lance a pleasant smile, and continued eating. The gancanagh clutched his intact neck in disbelief and hurried to the other end of the table, where the murmuring began. 

_Savage beast. I thought Lord Lancerion had it under control?_

_Look at that thing! Of course he can’t control it. It’s a faery-killer to the bone._

_Or maybe he’s training it. Like a guard dog, you know…put that muscle to good use._

Lance enjoyed his scone significantly less, especially when Aunt Luxia approached him after breakfast, her arms folded. “Lancerion,” she said coolly. “We need to talk.”

“Alright,” Lance said. “Talk.”

“This… _pet_ of yours is causing a stir, as I feared,” she snapped, gesturing to Shiro. Shiro folded his arms and glared, mirroring her, and she took a subtle step back. “Lancerion, near-murders at breakfast are unacceptable. Rusalka venom or not, this human is too attached to you, and you to it. It is unnatural.”

“Unnatural?” Lance raised an eyebrow. 

Her eyes narrowed and she lowered her voice. “Listen to me, and listen to me well. I could care less about whatever sick delights you wring out of this creature in your bed. If you like to play pretend; relive your capture and brutal violation over and over again, then that is your own disgusting business.” Lance recoiled, and Shiro gritted his teeth. “But I will not have you tainting our family name with these public displays of weakness and perversion.” Her expression softened. “He is a mortal and he will die, Lancerion. It does neither of you any good to ignore that inescapable fact.”

“Is that a threat?” Lance hissed. 

“What, his aging?” She sneered. “Please, Lancerion, I do not have to lift a finger; that is all up to Nature. Soon enough he will become not only ugly and withered, but he will be quite unable to use you the way you wish him to, which is for the best. And then, because you are a smart boy, you will rid yourself of him. You are just delaying the inevitable by keeping him here, where he does not belong.”

“I am the lord of this castle and I will decide whether or not he belongs,” Lance retorted. “Now, is that all, or do you have more useless things to say?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Luxia said. “Our family – including, unfortunately, you – has been invited to a ball in two days’ time at the Olkari Marsh. Lady Ryner’s daughter Romelle is of age, and you will dance with her, _not_ the human. In fact, the human will not even attend.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Lance said. “Shiro must attend if the ball is in two days; the rusalka venom will leave him in anguish if we are separated.”

“Your human was not invited. He will not go.”

“Then perhaps we should take _your_ invitation and have Shiro go instead, Aunt Luxia,” Lance suggested, eyes glinting. “Would you prefer that?”

Luxia gave him a long, hard look. “Do not test me, boy,” she said, and left the room with a furious swish of her skirts.

Shiro leaned in close, stroking Lance’s jaw. “I do not like your aunt,” he murmured. “She does not treat you as she should.”

“Mm, no, she does not, but that’s hardly new,” Lance sighed, turning to face him. “So, what do you say? Are you up for a ball?”

“Anything with you sounds good to me,” Shiro replied. “Yes.”

*

Lance stood in front of the full-length mirror and fiddled with his intricately embroidered jacket while Shiro breathed down the back of his neck. 

“You look good,” Shiro told him for the fifth time in five minutes. Lance eyed him in the mirror. Shiro tried to kiss his neck and Lance batted him away. 

“Remember what we talked about,” Lance said, only a little breathless, “don’t murder Lady Romelle. We’re just dancing together out of principle, nothing more – so keep your jealousy in check.”

“It isn’t my fault you’re stunningly beautiful and I don’t want anyone else to touch you ever,” Shiro whined. 

“Shiro.”

He huffed dramatically. “Fiiine, I won’t murder Lady Romelle, but I won’t be happy about it.”

“I’ll dance with you afterwards, promise,” Lance said.

“And then…?”

“And then we will be good guests, and speak politely to the Olkarians,” Lance finished firmly. Shiro pouted at him. _One more day,_ Lance told himself. “You’ll survive, I promise.”

“Okay,” Shiro sighed reluctantly, nuzzling at Lance’s brocaded shoulder pads. “I trust you.”

“C’mere,” Lance murmured, and kissed him gently. Shiro melted eagerly into it, clinging to him like a helpless sprite and trying to run his fingers through Lance’s perfectly coiffed hair. Lance caught his wrists before he could ruin it and clicked his tongue. “Don’t you dare.”

“But you’re so pretty it hurts,” Shiro cooed. 

“We are going to be late,” Lance warned, and slipped his warm gloved hand into Shiro’s cool metallic one.

*

Shiro did not murder Lady Romelle, but it was a near thing.

He was glowering and antsy for the entire duration of the dance, eyes boring into the back of Lance’s head like live coals as he spun the laughing, oblivious Lady Romelle elegantly around. According to Keith, who had been tasked with physically holding Shiro back if need be, he had actually growled aloud when Lance took Romelle into his arms and dipped her gracefully to the ground. 

After the dance, Shiro was on Lance before he could even fetch more champagne from a passing servant. “Calm,” Lance reminded him, and Shiro set his lips into an unhappy line, staying close to Lance and glaring at anyone who came near, except for Keith and Pidge, whom he had decided to tolerate. 

Hunk was arriving at Avalon in two days’ time, hopefully with the antidote in tow. The thought was bittersweet for Lance. On the one hand – he would no longer have to worry about Shiro potentially murdering someone for breathing on him. On the other hand…depending upon what Shiro remembered from this time, the Love Situation might have to be dealt with. Swiftly. Painfully. Lance did not want to consider that.

Yet, he could not stop reflecting upon Allura’s words. Humans were not meant to be immortal for a reason. But Lance could not think of a single good reason as to why. Yes, it was true that some humans had evil and greed and selfishness in their hearts, and were better off living only a short time, but Shiro was not one of them. Lance was certain of this. Aunt Luxia surely would have called him naïve and stupid for thinking so, but her opinion did not matter to him in the least. He could imagine nothing but good things coming from Shiro living forever. 

Unless, of course, Shiro abandoned him, in which case…Lance had no desire to force anyone to stay with him. But it would hurt a great deal. Maybe that was what Allura had been warning of. Lance thought he would still feel better that Shiro was alive, even if Shiro was not with him, per se. 

Lance was determined to ask Shiro, when all of this was finally over, if Shiro was still on speaking terms with him. Lance had been heartbroken before, but he did not think those times would even compare to the magnitude of the pain he’d feel if Shiro rejected him. 

It was all so ironic, truly. Lance had taunted Shiro into capturing him, seduced Shiro into fucking him, and somewhere along the way Lance’s plans had flipped on their head and he’d been the one who fell hopelessly in love with the human, and entirely on accident. 

Perhaps Shiro, in his currently highly-attentive state, noticed Lance’s troubled contemplation, because he kept touching him in small, soothing ways – rubbing his thumb softly against Lance’s neck, squeezing his hand, brushing Lance’s hair away from his face where it had begun to unravel from its gelled state, keeping so close that his body was a warm and solid line against Lance’s side, a support that Lance was endlessly grateful for.

Yet these small touches, soothing as they were, also had quite the opposite effect on Lance. They were maddening. Lance was maddened by this human, though he imagined Shiro’s frustration was even worse – he had been twitchy and speaking in monosyllables all night, and Lance worried that the rusalka venom was urging him into a new and more frantic final stage of love slash lust. 

Sure enough, halfway through dessert, Shiro’s dilated pupils and shallow breathing worried Lance enough that he politely excused the two of them and marched Shiro off down the hall. Shiro said nothing and did not protest, just kept eying him with distinctly hungry eyes. Lance was dizzy with the attention, and though he had originally intended to find a vacant room for them to speak privately in, he ended up just yanking Shiro behind a large marble pillar.

Shiro stared at him steadily as the faery backed him up against the pillar, unresisting. 

“What do _you_ want, Shiro?” Lance asked, pleading. “Not what you think I want from you – what do you want from me?”

Shiro blinked at him, and for a long moment he was quiet, and Lance feared that the venom had taken away all semblance of his own will. But then he tilted his head, and stepped closer, and said, “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Lance’s mouth went dry. “Oh,” he whispered. “And how…how would you do such a thing?” Shiro swallowed, clearly torn, his eyes flicking uncertainly to the side. Lance cupped his jaw and said, “Hey. Whatever it is – say it. I won’t be mad. I want to know, Shiro.”

Shiro reached out, his hand fitting to Lance’s hip, curling around the delicate bone securely. “I want them to watch while I fuck you,” he said.

Lance froze. “W-watch?”

“Mhm.” Shiro’s gaze was dark and intent, and it made heat curl low in Lance’s belly. “Do you remember when I first fucked you, in the tent in camp, right there where everyone could hear? And they saw, too – they saw how you looked hanging off my cock, begging for more, dripping with my come.” Lance’s breath shallowed, and he clung to Shiro’s shirt as the human pressed closer. “Your subjects don’t respect you, or me. They don’t know what we have. They don’t think I’m capable of pleasing you the way you deserve to be pleased.”

“You are,” Lance breathed unsteadily. “You are, you – ahh…”

Shiro’s knee slid between his legs, grinding purposefully at his crotch through his velvet breeches. “So let them see,” Shiro murmured. “Let them know exactly how I make you feel.” He hesitated, and exhaled hot over Lance’s throat. “In your true form,” he added. 

Lance was hard so fast he was dizzy. “You want to fuck me when I’m like that?” he managed, his voice weak. 

“I want you to make me bleed while I do it, too; bite me with your sharp, sharp teeth,” Shiro added, smiling when Lance growled, hips jerking forward against Shiro’s thigh. “I want them to see all of it.”

“Where?” Lance hissed, desperate at the mere thought.

“Hmm,” Shiro mused, though he clearly already knew. “The baths?”

Lance nodded at once. “Yes. Yes, yes, the baths. We’ll be leaving the Marsh early, I think. Tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night,” Shiro agreed. “After the feast.”

Lance already knew he wasn’t going to be able to eat a single thing.

*

Lady Ryner was most disappointed that the Lord of Avalon could not stay longer, but sent him off with a smile and a civil wave. 

Aunt Luxia was simmering with rage. Lance cheerfully informed her that Avalon was to have a great feast that night, and all of her constituents were quite welcome. Luxia eyed him suspiciously, but Lance knew she would be unable to resist such an invitation.

“There will be a show after the feast,” he added blithely, her suspicion clearly increasing tenfold. “One nobody will soon forget, I think.”

“Tread lightly, Lancerion,” Aunt Luxia warned.

Treading lightly had never been Lance’s forte. 

*

The baths were busy that night, which made Lance’s stomach flutter with equal parts nervousness and excitement, especially when Shiro approached him casually as they’d planned. Lance was in the central bath, which was surrounded by a ring of marble pillars that provided some privacy, but not enough to hide what they were about to do. The other baths were being used by various constituents, including Keith, who was going to hate him later but would just have to deal with it…because many of the other constituents were Luxia’s, and had been giving him and Shiro looks of blatant disgust and disapproval throughout the night, and indeed since he’d arrived at Avalon.

They were in for a treat, Lance thought vindictively as Shiro waded to him in the pool, shedding his robe and letting it float carelessly in the water. His cock was already stirring; swelling proud and dark between his legs, and some of the other bathers had begun to notice all was not as expected in the central bath. They definitely began to notice when Lance shed his glamour, the magic rippling through the air and the water and causing a sudden lull in the quiet conversations.

Someone swore. It was probably Keith. Lance’s tail lashed in the water in expectation, and he tipped his head up to Shiro when the human reached him. “Put on a pretty show,” Shiro whispered, and Lance’s breath came out in a rush, his cock rapidly hardening and bumping against Shiro’s as the human stepped into his space. 

Lance’s mouth opened easily to Shiro’s, the human kissing him hot and deep, backing him slowly up against one of the pillars. The baths had fallen uneasily silent, but Shiro was not dissuaded, and hitched their hips together, grabbing Lance’s legs unexpectedly and hefting him up hard, the thud echoing through the space. Lance gasped and clutched at his shoulders, legs wrapping tight around the human’s waist as he continued to grind his cock against Lance’s ass, the head slipping through the oil Lance had used to prepare himself earlier.

Shiro was apparently not satisfied with that preparation, though, because his hand slipped under Lance and his fingers delved deep inside, crooking in tight heat and making Lance yelp and whine, clinging tighter to him and working his hips down onto Shiro’s hand. There was a gasp from someone, and Lance grinned into Shiro’s neck, his tail curling around and caressing the human’s arching spine as he stretched Lance open further. It was obscene, and Lance loved it, his cock rubbing against Shiro’s flexing stomach while the human manhandled him to his liking. 

“I want to hear you,” Shiro breathed against one pointed ear, and Lance chuckled in reply, his eyes widening as Shiro forced a third finger in and curled them roughly. Shiro was not going to go easy on him, and Lance was glad for it. 

He dug his claws into Shiro’s shoulders and hissed, “Then do something that’s worth moaning for.”

That spurred Shiro on, and he nipped at Lance’s neck before lifting him up a few inches higher, positioning him over his cock and teasing Lance with the head, wet and slippery against his hole. Lance squirmed and raked his claws harder, blood beading up, and Shiro growled at him, grip slipping just enough for his cock to breach Lance. Lance did moan at that, and then whined when Shiro held him in place, eased Lance slowly, torturously, down the swollen length of his cock. 

Over Shiro’s shoulder, Lance saw wide eyes and shocked, horrified expressions. Some fae were leaving, but most – most couldn’t look away. Lance knew fae were drawn to spectacles, and drawn also to debauchery, though they likely hadn’t seen a show like this in centuries. Such performances were from the old days, and rarely involved nobility, but Lance hardly cared about that. 

All he cared about was that Shiro was fucking him, bouncing Lance up and down on his cock and slamming him against the pillar with every thrust. Lance arched into it, his body aching in the best way, his cock full and already ready to burst, but he forced himself to breathe and make it last, rolling his hips down onto Shiro’s thick cock. 

Shiro’s hands were bruising on his hips and nails dug into his ass, firm and possessive, and Lance thought dizzily of the first time in the tent. He thought of his bound hands and his helpless state; and he thought of Shiro at his back, slicking up his cock which had looked so fat and dripping as he’d tugged it out from his pants, irresistible at first glance. Lance had eagerly let Shiro stuff it into his mouth, had savored the bitter salt taste that had bloomed upon his tongue, had welcomed every greedy thrust into his throat. He wanted to do that to Shiro in front of everyone, too. 

“Slut,” Shiro whispered into his ear, like he knew exactly what Lance was thinking. Lance moaned louder, loudest, and tightened around him, and the human grunted, bucking harder, an unchained beast. His balls slapped at Lance’s ass and Lance wriggled needily, wanting to feel every inch of him. Shiro grabbed his legs more roughly, forcing them wider apart, sucking a bruise into Lance’s neck. Lance’s claws scratched across his skin, tail winding tight around Shiro’s left leg, another anchor by which to keep himself upon Shiro’s cock, binding them together. 

Shiro was close, Lance could feel it, and idly wondered if rusalka venom could improve stamina, too. He thought that Shiro would probably keep fucking him forever if Lance asked him to, but at the same time, he was also on the edge. Lance leaned in close to Shiro’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and soap, and bit down into the meat of his shoulder. Shiro snarled and fucked up into him harder, but Lance didn’t let go, digging his teeth in as blood ran in rivulets down his chin and Shiro’s back. The other fae stared, mouths agape, and there was definitely jealousy in some of their eyes. 

Lance licked his red lips and rode out Shiro’s vicious thrusts, his own mouth hanging open in pleasure, keening when Shiro found his prostate and did not stray from it, until Lance cried out Shiro’s name and came between them. Shiro kept going and Lance whimpered, writhing from oversensitivity, his pleasure furthered by Shiro’s mouth on his skin, kissing over the blue bumps on his shoulders and fondling Lance’s softening cock as it spurted weakly again. 

His toes curled when Shiro buried himself deep and came a while later, when Lance was fully limp and slumped in his arms. The spill of heat inside him made Lance’s cock twitch weakly, and Shiro bit his earlobe lightly in reply. 

The baths were silent. Shiro guided Lance gently down, intending to help him walk, but Lance shook his head and wrapped Shiro’s arms around his waist instead. “Carry me,” he murmured, and Shiro’s eyes glinted. He enthusiastically obliged. They did not bother to clean Lance off, and cum dripped thickly down his thighs as Shiro carried him off through the baths, past the shocked fae. Lance smiled cheekily at them and winked, prompting several gasps and ducked heads. Shiro continued unflinchingly, bare scarred skin on display, and Lance lounged lazily in his strong arms. 

One of Aunt Luxia’s lackeys must have run off crying to her, because she was waiting outside the baths with a face like thunder. Lance raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You awful little brat,” she hissed, pointing a clawed, shaking finger at him. “You disgust me. What did you possibly hope to gain from this? Now all your subjects know the true depth of your betrayal to your own kind.”

“Mm, well, they know the true depth of something,” Lance said meaningfully.

 

She spat at his feet, or rather at Shiro’s feet. “You will pay for this,” she snapped, and stomped off.

“Was that a threat?” Lance called. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making threats, auntie!”

“Lance,” Shiro murmured, shaking his head in fond exasperation. 

“What?” Lance giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Shiro’s chest rumbled with approval and he continued upstairs to Lance’s bedchambers. Once there, he took his time with cleaning Lance off, frequently getting distracted by kissing him or stroking his smooth brown skin, wringing another climax out of Lance with only soft touches and the low timbre of his voice against Lance’s twitching ear. 

“You did so well,” Shiro murmured as they settled into bed together, his eyes warm and besotted. “Thank you, Lance.”

“I think I should be thanking you,” Lance whispered, letting his still-clawed hands trace the human’s content face. “I know this week hasn’t been ideal…I wish you’d never been bitten, Shiro, truly. And when we wake up tomorrow, and Hunk gives you the antidote, and you’re not…” He swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

“Not what?” Shiro blinked, confused, and nudged his scarred nose gently against Lance’s cheek. 

“Not so affectionate,” Lance said, biting his lip. “You aren’t usually like this, you know. You’re always so…restrained. Maybe even a little repressed.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” Shiro said with a small frown.

Lance’s gut twisted. “Yes, well,” he sighed, “maybe you weren’t like that before the War. But when we met…I couldn’t read you at all, Shiro. For all I knew, you were going to kill me.”

Shiro’s frown deepened and he pressed a small kiss to the tip of Lance’s nose. “I don’t sound very nice.”

“You’re not nice,” Lance told him, smiling wanly. “You’re kind. In here.” And he pressed his hand to Shiro’s heart. 

“Oh,” Shiro said, considering it, and then smiled back. “I am glad, Lance,” he said earnestly. “You deserve the utmost kindness.”

Lance refused to cry. “Go to sleep, Shiro,” he said, curling to his chest. “I’ll be here when you wake…whether you want me then or not.”

“I will always want you,” Shiro whispered into the darkness.

*

Lance awoke with a start in the middle of the night. There was a sound, he thought blearily, a sharp noise like a…

Like a window opening. 

Lance bolted upright, but it was too late. The intruder sprang forward, a hobyah from the looks of it, one of the most expensive fae assassins coin could buy. Luxia really wasn’t taking any chances. Lance summoned a hail of ice shards down upon it, but the hobyah dodged each one nimbly, lunging towards Lance with its long, gleaming sickle. A deadly blade, one tipped with iron. 

Shiro stirred next to him, and Lance froze up in a sudden stroke of terror. Fae were hard to kill; humans far less so. He’d already seen Shiro near death once before, bleeding out on the ground from a fellow human soldier’s axe, a blow that Shiro took to save Pidge’s life. Lance knew he wouldn’t hesitate to step in front of the weapon to save Lance, especially with the rusalka venom was still in effect. 

Lance couldn’t let him do that. His ice coated the iron weapon, and Lance used the last of his strength to maintain the spell, praying the frozen layer might cushion the lethal blow.

Shiro’s eyes opened. He saw the assassin at once; blade raised over Lance, and cried out, face twisting in horror and shock as the blade came down. It happened as if in slow motion, and Lance stared at his human, lump rising in his throat, reaching out uselessly. The sickle sliced through his chest, and Lance crumpled back down to the bed, flesh burning in blinding agony, Shiro’s howl of rage echoing in his ears as he blacked out.

*

Lance was in a quiet place. 

It was some sort of forest, he thought, wading through the shallow creek slowly, running his fingertips along the smooth bark of the aspen trees on the banks and the fuzzy leaves of the weeping willows. There was a forest beside his river, but this was not that one. This forest was not real, Lance understood, watching the pale blue will o’ the wisps drift past his ankles and swirl up into the clear night sky, as if returning to their brethren among the stars. 

It was a beautiful forest, unreal though it was. Lance sat down in the gently flowing water, sighing as it flowed around him, his glamour falling away with ease. He belonged here, among the rivers and the reeds, under the soft moonlight and new spring leaves. Fae had changed, over the years, becoming too concerned with noble hierarchies and lines of succession and intrigue and parties and power. They’d become too human, perhaps. 

But humans had changed, too. Lance remembered the early days as if they’d been only yesterday, long lazy summers filled with the playful splashing of human children in his river. They had been so curious, so unafraid. It was only later, after the first humans killed the first fae, that tensions had begun to rise, and the children stayed away from his river, whispering terrifying tales about the nixie with sharp teeth who would gobble them up if they dared to swim too close.

Lance had tried to assure them it was safe, that he had only ever protected them from harm; he was a guardian, not a monster. But the children ran away screaming at the sight of him, and in the following weeks and months and years, humans prowled on the banks with fishing hooks and nets and cruel iron tools, determined to kill the nixie who had so frightened their children.

So Lance had little choice but to retaliate. He could not sit by and do nothing when the humans were terrorizing his river, and after they’d poisoned his mother’s river…he had decided that if they saw a monster in him, a monster he must be. So he lured them into his clear blue waters, made them hear the voices of their loved ones, see the faces of their precious children floating in the dangerous currents, and when they were foolish enough to fall for his trap, Lance made them pay for what they’d done. He’d dragged them under, kicking and screaming, sharp teeth and claws slicing through pathetically soft skin, their blood staining his river, turning the clear water clouded and dark. 

The War was long and brutal. Lance has tried to forget most of it, but bits and pieces keep coming back to him – he never enjoyed the killing. It was little more than a task to be done, revenge to be carried out. Every time he murdered a human, he saw his mother’s face, her brown hair swirling in her own bloodied river, her blue eyes open and glazed over in death. There was no need for her to die, but she had. So these humans must then die, too.

Lance remembered the day Princess Allura had called upon him for help. He knew she disapproved of his killing, but she also knew what it was to feel the terrible loss of a parent killed at the hands of humans. 

We will destroy their forces at the root, she had told him, sitting upon her father’s throne with an air of dignity and the deepest sorrow Lance had ever felt. Prince Lotor’s army must be lured into a trap, and I would ask you to take part in this plan, if you are willing. There will be great risk, and you know as well as I the cruelty of humankind. But I know you have become cruel in recent years, yourself. 

What must I do? Lance had asked. He would do it; he didn’t care what it was. He had faltered briefly at the thought of being captured and potentially ravished by a camp full of human soldiers, but if it meant their bloody end afterwards, he did not care. Lance could seduce and trick. It was what nixies were best at.

Allura had cared more for Lance’s wellbeing than he himself. Do not go in blindly, she’d warned. Find an ally, first. A human who may be softer than the others.  
Lance had known no softness from humans since the children in his river, but he had agreed, and begun his impossible task of finding a soft human soldier. 

Even now, Lance could not explain what had drawn him to Shiro, besides the human’s strange beauty. Fae preferred perfection, and yet the human was missing an arm, replaced by an iron monstrosity, his hair was streaked with premature silver-white, and his impressive physique was covered in scars, evidence of his stubborn refusal to die. He was not perfect, though Lance found him lovely to look at. 

But Lance also saw grief in his eyes, and a reluctance Lance did not see among the other soldiers. The human had better reason than most to fight his kind, Lance believed, yet even then he did not relish his duty. Death was still death, justified or not. And death took its toll.

He had feared he was wrong when Shiro finally captured him. The hand of the human who had poisoned his mother’s river squeezed tight around his neck, and Shiro had stolen his pendant away, ripping his magic away with it. Lance had been afraid, and certain that he had imagined Shiro’s confliction, and had resigned himself to a slow, humiliating torture at the human’s hands.

Instead, Shiro had treated him gently. Kindly. Sitting in the cool river water, Lance remembered the human’s tender touches, and shivered. He had not been touched like that in so long, and never by a human. He had once assumed them incapable of tenderness and kindness. But Shiro had proved him very wrong.

And then Lance had betrayed him, and Shiro had still returned to him, still treated Lance with tenderness and kindness even when Lance’s betrayal nearly meant his death.

Lance had stayed at his bedside for hours, sending wave after wave of his strongest healing magic into the human’s weakened body, refusing to let his wound be mortal. And Shiro had lived. But Lance would not be able to heal him when his time came, and he returned to the earth from whence humans had come.

There was an old story that humans had been sculpted from mud, hardened by flame, and given the gift of life from the breath of the first storm. In this way, humans were made of every element; while fae represented only one based upon their type. Nixies, of course, were water. 

It was not a very popular story, nowadays. Fae liked to assume superiority. How could humans be made of all aspects of life when they were so base and violent?

But Lance believed the story. The children made him believe. Shiro made him believe.

He scooped up a handful of black river mud, holding it carefully in his cupped palms and letting it drip down his wrists, cool against his skin. “I give you the gift of life,” he whispered, and though he had no storm breath nor flame to give, he exhaled over the gathered mud, and felt it shift in his hands. 

Gently, Lance placed the mud back under the water, and the water rippled, and when Lance opened his eyes, Shiro was kneeling in front of him, his hair black as the mud, his skin unscarred, his eyes clear of guilt and grief. 

“I give you the gift of love,” Shiro whispered, and kissed him, tasting of summer rain and fertile earth. Lance sundered in his arms, pressing closer, opening his mouth to Shiro’s blessing. 

And as he did, something tore free of his chest, a spark of pure blue light, a will o’ the wisp from Lance’s very own heart. Shiro stopped, pulling back and staring at the small blue light hovering between them, and shook his head. “It’s yours,” Shiro said. “I cannot take it from you.”

“I give you the gift of life,” Lance repeated. “The eternity you deserve.”

Shiro tilted his head. “It is a good gift,” he murmured. “But you cannot take it back. You must be certain…”

“I am certain,” Lance whispered. “Certain that I want you, always, always.”

Shiro cupped his face with his metal hand and smiled. “Then I accept it,” he said. “I love you very much.”

The will o’ the wisp vanished into Shiro’s heart, glowing once before going out, and then everything exploded into tiny blue lights; the river, the trees, the stars, and Shiro, and Lance fell into them, and fell, and fell, and fell.

*

Someone was crying. 

Lance cracked his eyes open, an arduous task that took him the better part of a minute, and when his bleary vision sharpened, a familiar and tearstained face came into focus above him.

“Hunk?” Lance croaked.

The alchemist froze, his golden freckles flaring in alarm. “L-lance?” Hunk stammered, practically falling onto the side of the bed in his haste to get closer. “Oh, thank the gods!” Tears spilled down his cheeks and he clasped Lance’s hand carefully, his own large and calloused hands shaking violently. 

Lance blinked and tried to sit up, pain flaring in his chest as he did so, and Hunk exclaimed, “None of that, lay down, you’ll hurt yourself further!” and Lance was so alarmed by his outburst that he obeyed, a slow dread seeping through him, ten times worse than the pain.

“Shiro,” Lance whispered. “Hunk…where is Shiro, the assassin, did it…”

Hunk’s lower lip trembled. “Lance, Shiro _killed_ the assassin. That was Luxia’s doing, by the way, but, well…Florona said you probably already knew that. Anyway, I arrived in the morning, too late to see it, but Keith and Pidge saw and…” He looked away. “It was a bloodbath. He practically tore the hobyah from limb to limb. Rusalka venom has a dark side, and I would be sorry for not bringing you the antidote sooner, but…I think maybe he saved your life. The hobyah would have surely ended your life if it had struck you again.” Hunk shuddered. “Your life was close enough to ending as it was.”

Lance digested the information slowly, his gut twisting, remembering the expression on Shiro’s face and the sound of his fury, imagining Shiro standing over the remains of the hobyah, splattered in fae blood. “So you gave him the antidote,” he whispered. “Right after he’d murdered the hobyah?”

Hunk wrung his hands. “We didn’t have much choice, Lance,” he explained. “Shiro was…he was mad with grief; Keith had to shift into his drake form to restrain him, and nobody knew if you were going to make it…and we didn’t know if he was going to kill again.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut. “He wouldn’t have,” he breathed. “He wouldn’t have killed one of you, you’re my friends, he knows that…”

“You didn’t see him, Lance,” Hunk said quietly. “It was like every scary bedtime story about humans come to life.”

Lance shivered. “And now? How is he now?”

“Not good,” Keith said from the window, alighting on the sill and slipping into the room. It wasn’t Lance’s quarters, and he noted the red drapery and simple décor, concluding he must have been moved to Keith’s guest room. The drake could be considerate, under all that fire. He looked relieved to see Lance awake, and leapt onto the floor, trailing embers in his wake. There was a nasty scar over the right side of his face, ending just under his eye, stopped by the sickle-shaped line of red scales there. 

Lance winced. “Did Shiro give you that?”

Keith touched it like an afterthought, sighed, and nodded. “Yes. He wasn’t himself, Lance. He thought you were dead. He was ready to kill Luxia himself, and I stopped him, and…” The drake shrugged, leaning against the wall. “It will heal, in time. Your healing is far more important, at the moment. I’m impressed, the latent healing magic in your body is working hard.”

“What of Luxia?” Lance asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Imprisoned,” Keith said dismissively. “She’ll be judged by Queen Allura by the next moon, and considering how easy it was to trace the assassin to her, thanks to your sisters finding the contract in her offices, I expect the Queen’s judgment will be swift and harsh.”

“Well, that’s some good news, at least,” Lance sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve been putting up with that jealous hag for several hundred moons too many. I’m glad my sisters took matters into their own hands.”

Hunk and Keith exchanged looks. “I do question your methods of dealing with her,” Hunk muttered. “We did not all need to see that display in the baths, thanks very much.”

Lance flushed. “That was Shiro’s idea,” he mumbled. “Kind of.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I wonder if Luxia had been planning to send the assassin previously, or if you just made her snap.”

Lance snorted weakly. “We may never know.”

An awkward silence settled over the trio, and then Lance frowned and said, “Where’s Pidge?”

Hunk sighed. “She’s with Shiro, actually. We didn’t think it would be good for him to be alone right now…and he refused to see you, so…”

Lance’s heart clenched with pain that had nothing to do with the wound. “Refused?”

“He needs some time, Lance,” Keith murmured, folding his arms. “When he was lucid again, he was horrified by what he’d done under the venom’s influence.”

“By all of it?” Lance asked, trembling. 

Keith shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “You’ll have to ask him…later. For now, you need to keep resting. We’ll pass the news on to Shiro.”

“But…I need to tell him…” Lance whispered, though his eyelids were already growing heavy again.

“Later,” Hunk said firmly, stroking his brow. “He’s not going anywhere, Lance.”

*

“Hey,” Pidge said, flicking his ear lightly. “You’ve been dozing the better part of three days, sleepyhead.”

Lance opened his eyes and blinked at her. “Three days?” It didn’t feel like three days, but it was dark outside; it had been light when he’d awoken the last time, and Hunk and Keith were long gone.

She nodded, and bit her lip. “Someone wants to see you,” she murmured. “If you’re alright with it, of course.”

“Shiro?” Lance said in a small voice.

She sighed. “Yes. Lance, he’s…these last few days have been difficult for him. He feels a great deal of guilt, and also confusion as he tries to piece together what he did under the venom’s influence…and there’s something else.”

“What?”

“He told me he had a dream,” Pidge whispered. “About you. Said you gave him something, something that looked like a will o’ the wisp, and said –”

_“I give you the gift of life.”_

Pidge sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide. “So it’s true. You really did give him a piece of your soul. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“You’re the one who told me it was!” Lance spluttered.

“Yes, but…” She frowned. “Well, that explains a lot. He’s changed, Lance. He doesn’t exactly seem, well, _human_ anymore.”

Lance swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“You should see for yourself,” Pidge said. “Can he come in?”

“Yes,” Lance whispered. “Yes, of course.”

“He said yes,” Pidge called over her shoulder, and glanced back at him with a fond look. “Good luck,” she said, and sycamore leaves swirled her away into nothingness.

The door creaked timidly open, and Lance managed to prop himself up on his elbows, watching with baited breath as Shiro stepped into the room. At once, he saw what Pidge meant. The human carried himself differently, with an inhuman grace and yet seemed more reserved than ever before, his eyes averted and shoulders hunched. His hair was not black, but fully silver-white; his features were unlined and youthful, though almost coldly so; and his eyes caught the light in a different way than before, as if glowing from within.

“Hi,” Lance said. “I like the hair.”

Shiro approached, stopping at the end of the bed, still not meeting his gaze. “Thank you,” he said. “Why did you do it, Lance?”

Lance’s heart pounded. “Do what?”

Shiro looked up, his brow creased with obvious anguish. “Give a piece of yourself to me,” he whispered. “You were the one dying, not me. I didn’t need it.”

Lance flinched. “You _were_ dying,” he snapped. “Less dramatically, yes, but you were mortal!”

“And what is so wrong about being mortal?” Shiro half-pleaded. “Could you not bear to let me age and fade away naturally?”

“I don’t know!” Lance exclaimed. “But I didn’t want you to go through that!”

“All humans go through that, Lance –”

“But not you,” Lance said, shaking his head, “I didn’t want you to leave, not like that. It wasn’t that I couldn’t bear to see you age, Shiro, it was that I didn’t want to lose you so…so soon. Too soon.”

Shiro frowned. “So you made me immortal.”

“You could have said no,” Lance mumbled, curling away from his accusing eyes. “But you didn’t.”

“How could I have said no?” Shiro took a few steps closer. “I thought you…” He exhaled. “What I’m trying to say is, I think you wasted your gift, Lance. Why would you give it to me? You’ve seen what I’m capable of, and you know what I’ve done; I’ve hurt fae, killed them. The War may be over but it feels like I lost a part of myself in it, and I don’t know if I can ever get that back, even though you deserve that part of me…not this.” He gestured to himself, jaw set and eyes hard.

“What are you saying about being undeserving?” Lance whispered. “You are one of the best humans I have ever –”

“No, Lancerion,” Shiro said, pained. “Don’t. Don’t say that, please.”

“So, what,” Lance said, hollow and numb, “this was all for nothing? I gave my soul to you for nothing, for you to spurn it and me? You found an ancient text on undine courtship rituals and were the first who actually, truly courted me for the first time in all ten thousand years of my existence, for nothing? You saved my life from that wicked assassin sent by my wicked aunt for nothing? You damned human, you made me fall in love with you, for nothing?!”

Shiro stared at him. “Wait,” he said, “you…”

“Yes, I’m in love with you, you idiot!” Lance exclaimed, eyes stinging with tears. “Or maybe I’m the idiot for believing the words you said and the things you did with rusalka venom in your veins. I know they weren’t true –”

“They were,” Shiro said. He took another step closer. “Lance. They were true. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Lance slumped back against the pillows. “Ah,” he said. “Are you sure Hunk administered the antidote properly?”

And then Shiro was laughing, choked and disbelieving, and sitting on the edge of the bed to carefully wrap Lance up in his strong arms, tucking his face into the crook of Lance’s neck. “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m sure. I’m sure. I just didn’t think you could possibly…”

“Love you back?” Lance hid his face in Shiro’s pale hair. “I’ve loved you for a while now, I think. Perhaps even at first sight.”

Shiro chuckled, and when he lifted his head, the soft, genuine joy in his eyes was something Lance would remember for ten thousand years more, at least. But now, he wouldn’t have to remember. Because he would have Shiro for every one of those years; alive, beautiful, and in love with him. 

“You know,” Shiro said, grinning, “when my parents told me the fae would steal my heart, this was not what I had in mind.”

It hurt to laugh, but Lance couldn’t seem to stop, not with Shiro in his arms and a love Lance never thought he’d have in the air between them.


End file.
